Selfless Delusions
by cravethesun
Summary: Up close and personal look at the complex relationships between David, Greenlee, Ryan and Kendall. Also includes some MaxieZander from GH. WIP.
1. Want to be my Friend?

Selfless Delusions  
  
Author Notes: Started writing this with David, Greenlee, and Ryan as the main focus, which became a little tiresome after awhile so I started splicing in some Maxie Jones from General Hospital. Hopefully soon to be followed with some Zander Smith (Shut up! He's not really dead!). Still a work in progress, unfortunately. And yeah, this story may be guilty of some revisionist history. But just a little.

Disclaimer: So...I don't own any of these characters or locations. That is all.  
  
The amount of anger and hostility I was currently experiencing was the result of a steady build-up throughout the day. Not surprising, all things considered. Daughter's dead, the wife's left me. Most of my days are spent drinking what I can find and, on the days I don't manage to crawl into work, cursing the memories that haunt me in every corner of this god- forsaken house that my heart still hasn't allowed me to sell. And God, how I want to sell it. Sell it and move far away from this town, far away from these people. Finish out my days sailing the Pacific in a modest little yacht, with nothing ahead of me but blue skies and vast ocean. But I know I can't. I'd miss my job. I'd miss other things.  
But the idea of solitary sailing can really start to appeal to a man when he has Kendall Hart standing in his doorway, brandishing a bottle of champagne while demanding to be let in. And against my better judgment, I do.  
It's not as if I dislike Kendall. Well, that's not exactly true. I suppose she's a little too much like myself to inspire any feeling other than mild disgust. Recently though, I've been impressed with how she's helped Bianca through the nightmare she's been locked in. On some occasions, I can even bring myself to respect her. I can tell right away, however, that this will not be one of those times.  
As she blows by me I am struck by her strange attire. Say what you will, but Kendall is a beautiful woman, and the dress she's wearing reminds me off this fact. She's definitely her mother's daughter. Which is why I'm positive that she managed to catch up to Ryan and Greenlee.  
"So David, aren't you at all curious as to my recent whereabouts?" She looks up at me and grins as she attempts to open the champagne. She knows damn well I'm curious, so I don't bother answering as I fetch two wineglasses from the bar cabinet. "It was really beautiful, the resort. Very picturesque. One thousand islands . . . do you really think there are actually one thousand islands there?" So that's where they had run off. Obviously Ryan had chosen it, since Greenlee was not the type of woman who would willingly choose to vacation at some backwater tourist town. I mean, how would she keep up her manicure? "The ceremony? Also beautiful. I swear, I think I may have teared up." Her words jolted me out of my sanguine.  
"What are you talking about Kendall? What ceremony?" She looked at me, her eyes wide, and her face deceptively contrite. God, how I hated her.  
"Well, the wedding ceremony. Ryan and Greenlee Smythe Dupres's wedding ceremony." She enunciated every syllable of Greenlee's name slowly and mercilessly. I stopped moving, almost dropped one of the glasses. Then I laughed, harder than I had in awhile.

"Sorry I missed it. What should I send them as a wedding gift?" Kendall has always had a sick sense of humour. But obviously things hadn't gone well with Ryan. Which was why she was here, seemingly intent on getting drunk, with me.

Kendall looked at me and smiled, shaking her head slowly.

"Oh David, you only wish I were joking. I guess this new union cuts that last tenuous familial bond that held you two together. I imagine she'll drop the Dupres for Lavery. One's name can't become too long without finally exceeding good taste." She got up and came over to me, snagging a wineglass out of my motionless hand. She filled it and raised it in a mock toast. "May they live in infamy." She smirked.

"You're wrong," I manage to mutter. Then louder: "You're wrong." Her smile falters, and she sets her drink down roughly, spilling wine all over my countertop and hardwood floor.

"Sorry David, but I? Was there. Ryan waiting at the alter, with Greenlee looking ridiculously trashy, even for her, as she pranced down the aisle towards him. It was sickening." She smiled then, her lip curled. "Guess that wasn't what you wanted to hear, eh David?"

That was an understatement. I knew her and Ryan were going somewhere together, Greenlee had told me as much before they left. But they weren't married. Ryan loved Kendall, everyone knew that. And Greenlee. . .no, what Kendall was saying was impossible. It was a joke, and a cruel one at that. For both of us.  
"You're lying." I stammer, and I hate myself for how weak I sound. Kendall grimaced, pulled out her cell and dialed a number. She asked for Mr. and Mrs. Lavery, resolutely looking at me the whole time. Then she passed it to me. Wordlessly I waited, phone pressed tightly against my ear. I waited. Then her voice, breathy, unmistakable, drifted towards me, and I almost doubled over. From the shock, from the anger...from the pain.

Kendall snatched the phone back and disconnected, throwing it carelessly into her purse. She raised her eyebrows, as if to say _See? I told you_. That just made it worse.  
"Get out."  
She laughed again.  
"Oh David. Don't bother trying to hide your feelings. I see right through you, you know. That little tramp isn't worth that kind of devotion." I looked away, wondering if my feelings were that transparent. I had been trying to bury those thoughts, those feelings, but it was as if it were impossible. She had permeated almost every aspect of my life to the point where I simply needed her. I had become dependent, to my internal humiliation. The fact that Kendall knew this enraged me. I grabbed her roughly by the arm and began pulling her towards the door.  
"No need to get violent, I'm going. I just thought you'd like to commiserate with me, guess I was wrong. But I'm curious:" I opened the door, waiting for her to finish. "Who's name is she going to call out tonight? Ryan's, Leo's . . .or yours?" The urge to kill was once again renewed but I had to settle for pushing her out the door and slamming it behind her. I rested against the wall, breathing heavily, my hands holding my head.  
I just didn't understand.  
She had never said anything. He had never said anything. It didn't make sense. Not to me. _She doesn't know how you feel_ that voice inside my head reminded me. _If you had the balls to_ _tell her, she might be here right now, instead of with that asshole Lavery_. But that was just my inflated self-confidence talking. Because I didn't for one second believe that was true.  
I had come close to telling her. Well, not really. What could I say? That while she was mourning her husband, my _brother_, I had begun to want her? That after Leora's death, and Anna's abandonment, she was the only thing that kept me alive? That she was the only one who made me feel _anything_? It was sick, this constant lusting for my sister in law. And that wasn't even the worst part. That it wasn't just lust. It went deeper. I always thought about her, wanted to know what she thought about, dreamed about. But I hid it, almost too well. Insulted her, ridiculed her- I couldn't count the number of times I'd called her the exact same thing Kendall had. And yet, she always managed to brush it off, to turn the other cheek. I knew it was for Leo's sake, but a small part of me always wondered, always hoped-  
But not anymore. She was where she wanted to be. And I was at a loss.


	2. Utter Futility

Well, I guess my life has turned out exactly how everyone expected it to. No job, no direction, but married to one helluva guy. That was always how I had imagined it too, I suppose. Who needed a job when you could travel to exotic places, meet exotic people? Who needed direction when you had access to the best of everything? But I was only trying to fool myself. Fusion had been a job, a direction, but one I hadn't been able to follow. Not because I hadn't enjoyed it, but because I had. So Kendall had taken it all away from me.  
So this, I reasoned, was simply returning the favour. She took my company, so I had ripped out her heart. Same thing.  
Sometimes I hate Ryan for doing this. He must know, he must suspect- but he never says anything. The fact that I think I've begun to feel things for him that I probably shouldn't is never mentioned. But these days I feel it, pounding beneath the surface of my skin, desperate to be let out, unleashed. And it's crippling me. This "love". Because I don't know if it is love, or if it's simply something else in disguise. Because they aren't the same kind of feelings I had for Leo . . . and that was love, of that I'm absolutely certain. I don't know what Ryan feels. Well, that's not true. Because I know he loves Kendall. The real kind of love, I mean. I see the wistful, longing look in his eyes. And I've seen the pictures he keeps in his underwear drawer. But I also know that he wants me. I've been around men long enough to recognize the signs. Giving me the once-over every time I enter the room, putting his hands on me unnecessarily. And I hate it. I hate the fact that I'm willing to accept it, accept Ryan's second-rate affection. I promised myself, after Leo, that I wouldn't settle for anything less than what I deserved. And despite of what most people think of me, I know that I deserve better than a man desperately trying to replace the woman he rejected.  
But, like usual, I talk a good game. I know that as soon as Ryan makes a move, I certainly won't be resisting. I'm only human.  
We're flying back to Pine Valley today, returning from our three week "honeymoon". And I'm dreading it, due to the realized fact that I will be even more of a social pariah now then I was before I left. Hard to believe. Inconsequential, I tell myself. I don't need any of those losers. Besides, David and I could always meet up. I know I can count on him not to turn his back on me. We've been through too much together. Plus, he's not exactly Mr. Popularity himself. Especially since Anna left him. For some reason, that cold-hearted witch provided him with a certain degree of social acceptance.

I was never really Anna's biggest fan, I guess. Contrary to popular opinion, I never thought she was good enough for David. And I've never been able to understand how she managed to justify what she did, leaving following Leora's death. Call David a lot of things, but he loved Leora just as much as she did. For the short time that she was alive, he lived for her. To pack up and disappear, leaving nothing behind but accusations and blame, is one of the more heartless things I've ever witnessed.  
And, not for the first time, guilt overcomes me. David was-is-my friend. I should have told him. I'm sure by now he must be aware of what has occurred, but he should have heard it from me. But I didn't tell him, because I was afraid. Afraid because he would have tried to talk me out of it. Afraid because he probably would have been successful. And once again I'm confronted by the utter futility of my actions. I married Ryan. Ryan loves Kendall. I don't think I can change that and, more surprisingly, I'm not even sure if I want to. I'm just so tired of all this. And so lonely. How I wish that I could curl up in someone's, anyone's arms, and just . . . cry. Cry because of the pointlessness of all this masquerading and pretending and lying.  
Cry because I'm just lying to myself. And I know it.


	3. Answering Machine Epiphany

The first thing that I check when I get in the door is my messages. There's thirty-six. I guess that's what happens when you go away for a month without telling anybody. I hit the play button idly. The first message is from Kendall. So is the second. And the third.  
This is too hard. So much harder then I ever thought it would be. Her voice, spilling out of the machine, crawling into my ears, knifes into my heart. Tears make their way, unbidden, towards my eyes, and I rub them away roughly. I need to see her.  
"Hey." I look up quickly at Greenlee standing in the doorway. I attempt to smile at her, but I'm not sure if I'm successful. Regardless, she doesn't move. She stands there, biting her lip, looking near tears herself. It kills me.  
I walk over and wrap my arms around her as she buries her head in my chest. I feel hot wetness leaking onto my shirt but I can't do anything but run my hand through her hair and whisper to her softly. She's my best friend. I hate to see her like this. And yet I can't stop.  
The movers interrupt us, and I pull us out of the doorway, clearing my throat. I tell Greenlee to put her stuff wherever she wants. She lives here now too. I smile. She tries too. I have to get out of here.  
"I'm gonna go pick us up some dinner, ok? Thai still good for you?" She sniffs and nods to the affirmative, but I can tell by the look in her eyes that she doesn't believe that's where I'm going. God, my first day back and already it looks like I'm going down that familiar path of distrust only, this time, dragging Greenlee along with me. I give her shoulder a squeeze and head for the door.  
"Ryan." I stop, turn around. "Could you pick up some Cherry Garcia too?" I had forgotten about Greenlee's unnatural fondness for ice cream. She reminds me of Leo so much some times. I miss him. He was like the brother I always wanted, instead of the ones I had but knew nothing about.  
I sit in the car for several minutes, letting the engine idle. Now that I'm alone I can let the tears fall freely, except this time they don't come. Figures. I peel out onto the road, going the opposite direction of A Thai and a Place. I knew that I was going to end up at her apartment even before we landed in Pine Valley. I just didn't think that it would be so soon. And that I would be so powerless to stop myself.  
But before I do I'm going to do something to help the other woman that I love. I have to fix all the things that I've broken in her. And I can't do that alone.


	4. Idle

The realtor had come by this afternoon. She loved the house, was confident that she could sell it right away. Just beautiful, Dr. Hayward. She had said. It would make a wonderful home for a family. Yeah, it probably would have. But right now it would have to settle for me and whomever I happened to be fucking. Which, at the moment, was Krystal Carey. I didn't like Krystal. I didn't even like her sometimes. She was rude, tacky, annoying, and also sleeping with Tad Martin. But hell, what can you expect. I don't exactly have my pick of the ladies, unless I'm prepared to pay for them. And honestly, Krystal herself is a prostitute. The only difference is I don't have to pay to use her.  
Right now Krystal's passed out in bed, the result of too much sex and too much booze. I wonder how long I'll have to wait before she wakes up and I can be alone again. That's why I'm not particularly upset when I hear a knock at the door, despite the fact that it's three o'clock in the morning. In fact, I practically leap off the couch to answer it and I swear there might even be a smile on my face.  
Which promptly disappears when I see who it is.  
"What the hell do you want?" I can't believe that he's here. He must know that he isn't welcome. And I assume the feeling is mutual. He's never forgiven me ever since he found out what happened between Gillian and I. Not that I care. I was never caught under Ryan Lavery's spell, unlike the rest of Pine Valley.  
"I need to talk to you." He's out of breath, and now that I look a little closer, I realize he looks like shit. His eyes are bloodshot, and his face exudes a weariness that concerns me, although only in a professional capacity. I am a doctor, after all. But that's beside the point. I'm not interested in anything he has to say. That, and I just don't trust myself.  
"Forget it, Lavery." I try to shut the door but he wedges his forearm firmly in the way.  
"Don't be so stubborn David. This is important!" Everything's important in his universe. Ryan is what I disdainfully refer to as melodramatic. Compared to Ryan, even Krystal can be attractive. Which is what I'm thinking right about now as I continue to struggle with the door. "It's Greenlee."  
I've managed to avoid thinking about Greenlee lately. It makes my life that much easier. Because thinking about her, with him, is downright painful for me. Not to mention pretty disgusting. But now she's back, and now I'm worried. So I open the door and allow him to enter.  
"What's happened? Is she okay?" It must be a medical problem. A chill descends upon me as I consider the possibilities. Greenlee's lifestyle choices weren't always the healthiest. _Well,_ _whose fault is that?_

I can't think straight. "Have you taken her to the hospital?" Ryan looks confused and opens his mouth, but no words come out. "Ryan, what the hell has happened to Greenlee?" I've started to raise my voice but I couldn't care less. I think I might be scared.  
"It's nothing...not like that." He finally manages to spit out, his eyes darting around the room. "But I'm-I mean, she's not herself. She's very upset these days, very sad." He says this quietly, like it's a shameful secret. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to think. She was almost manic the last time I saw her. But maybe not with happiness.

Why is she sad? She just got married. I say as much to Ryan, and he shifts his gaze towards the floor. He feels responsible, obviously. And why not? He probably is.  
"What the hell were you thinking, man?" I say this harshly, and Ryan's head snaps up, his eyes blazing.  
"What was I thinking? Maybe I was thinking that I wanted to help my friend get her company back. It's important to her, especially because she doesn't...she doesn't have anything else." I really wish that he would shut up. I don't need him to tell me how important Fusion was to Greenlee. And Greenlee didn't have nothing. She always had me. The anger returns, full force, and I glare at him.  
"But you don't love her. And after everything she's been through, Leo, Carlos, Pablo, her father, that's at least what she deserves. She doesn't deserve to become road kill on yours and Kendall's wild ride. She doesn't need you playing with her emotions, getting her hopes up for a happy marriage. Because you and I both know damn well that you're just going to fall back in bed with Kendall whenever it's convenient for you. And by the looks of it, that would be tonight." Ryan runs his hands through his hair and leans against the wall.  
"That's not true, you know."  
"Which part?"  
"Greenlee-I do love her. Have for a long time." I stare at him with a look that must be disbelief. He's lying. I guess I know what I'm talking about. "Just-just not the same way I love Kendall. But she knows that. We've been clear about those details since the beginning. This is a business arrangement, six months. Then we'll both get what we want. We'll share the Cambuis fortune, and then Greenlee can get her company back. I mean, it's not as if we're actually-well, it's not a marriage in all senses of the word. Not like it should be. Not like people think. "  
I don't know if I'm relieved or horrified.  
"But these days, she's just...I just don't know what to do. I need you to help her David. Because I don't know what to do." What a selfish prick. He's feeling guilty about this joke of a marriage, and he wants Greenlee to cheer up because she's bringing him down. Without doing any of the hard stuff himself. How did I become the fall guy for these situations? The guy that collects shards of broken hearts off the ground? I'm not made for it, and so far I've done a piss-poor job.

I'm torn between laughing in his face and thanking him pathetically for his honesty. I decide to do neither.  
"Where is she?" I need to find out where her head is.  
"At my-our-apartment. She'll still be awake because she's hungry. I'm bringing back food later. And ice cream." He's babbling and I can practically see the gratitude etched into his face. I'm disgusted with him. Making a mess like this and having to crawl to me for help. I pull my coat of its hanger and grab my keys. "So you can talk to her and I'll be there in a couple hours."  
"Why? Where are you going right now?" Of course I know where he's going. I knew before the question even finished leaving my mouth. Leaving his new wife at home the day they get back from their honeymoon in order to visit his ex. How classy.  
I slam the door shut behind me, leaving Ryan standing motionless. And Krystal in the bedroom behind him, sleeping her life away.


	5. Broken Windows and Wars that Never Were

Call it embarrassing, maybe. I've never really considered it an essential life skill before, but right now my lack of ability with the electric can- opener is the only thing standing in the way between me and a slow, starvation-filled death. Apparently wherever Ryan went to buy Thai food is located across state lines. And he doesn't have any food that isn't kept in cans. Didn't he get the memo back in nineteen seventy? The cold war that never was is over.  
I'm kidding myself if I think he went anywhere else but Kendall's though. That was pretty much a given as soon as I saw him crying over her phone messages. Who knew that Ryan Lavery was such a sensitive guy? But only when it comes to Kendall. I don't think I'll ever see the day where he's bawling over me. The only guy I've ever seen cry over me was Leo, when I called our wedding off. And David, but later I had realized that his tears were not so much for me as they had been for himself, for what he had lost. For what we had all lost. Just thinking about that time in my life makes me ache. Leo was the only thing I ever wanted, ever needed, to make me happy. So of course he was taken away. Just like Fusion.

I don't have a persecution complex, really I don't. I hate people who pull the woe-is-me shtick as much as the next person. But I can't help but feel as though my life is a joke that everyone is in on but me. I mean, I have everything, everything but something that would make it all worthwhile.

And great. I guess I'm pulling a Ryan because I start to feel those hot wet tears drip down my face, almost scalding me. I want to stop but I can't stop and I think that's the worst part of all this. The fact that I've turned into something utterly helpless sickens me to no end.

Out of frustration I throw the can of soup in my hand across the room, and watch in horror as it crashes through a window. This shocks me into silence as I stare at the jagged hole. I'm frightened that Ryan will be angry, even though I know I'm being irrational. It's a fucking _window_. He's not going to give a damn, and this realization renews my sobs for some reason, which become so loud that I barely hear the knock on the door.

I frantically wipe at my eyes, knowing that it is hopeless as I'm simply smudging my makeup and further reddening my eyes. I don't like people seeing me cry, even though Ryan's already seen it once tonight. And why the hell does he need me to open the door? How much food did he get?

But it isn't Ryan.

David stares at me before pushing past me into the room. I open my mouth but close it again, knowing that when David needs to get something off his chest it's better to just let him. That's one of the things I appreciate about him. Well, normally. When it's directed at someone else.

"Nice of you to let me know you were back." He says this icily, and my face flushes. He sits down on the couch and, after hesitating momentarily, I join him. David is someone I feel comfortable with. We hadn't always gotten along obviously, especially during the early parts of my relationship with Leo. Not that I had been a fan of his, either. But we had both come around, particularly after Leo had married Laura. I guess that's when he realized I was better than the alternative. I'm not really sure how it happened, but our relationship slowly evolved into that of two confidants. We could never shock each other, although I'm sure we tried.

"David, I-"

"But then, you didn't see fit to tell me you were getting married, so I can't say I'm surprised." I'll never forget how solid he was after Leo died. Those late nights where he had let me cling to him, crying because of the unfairness of it all. Holding me when I needed to be held. And sometimes, when the pain got to be too much, giving me something to ease it with. Those were the times I'd look forward to the most, when I could be light and happy and we could talk about Leo and how much we loved him and all the crazy stuff we did together. But he was always careful about the dosages, making sure I never took too much. And he never let me know what it was, in case I tried to get it somewhere else. David knew me better than most, because I would have. Anna tolerated these late night visits at the beginning, but after the third week I bypassed the problem by having David come over to my apartment. I was very selfish during that time period, even for me. I hadn't cared that people were talking, hadn't cared that David had a wife and a family of his own. I only cared about me, my grief and my pain. David's was irrelevant.

"I didn't tell anyone, David. It was just-it was easier that way." Because that way I could live in blissful denial that I loved Ryan and he loved me and that what we were doing was absolutely right for both of us.

"I'm sure. Because that way no one would have the chance to talk any sense into you. No chance to stop you from committing this atrocity." He held my gaze, and I hated the fact that he knew that I knew he was right. I smiled, but it was a cold one and I realized that I want to hurt him somehow. I don't know why.

"It's so easy for you, isn't it? Judging me." He sighed, and I saw his face soften slightly.

"I'm not judging you. I just know what you're doing isn't right." I start to spew vitriol, most of it aimed at Kendall. He tells me to shut up. "You think I give a fuck about Kendall? Or Ryan? They're worthless pieces of crap that deserve each other. They've already got you involved with their sick games. This isn't what you need right now." I try to summon the energy to deny what he's saying, but I'm unable to. I'm tired, I'm hungry, I'm also goddamn angry that he's commenting on this, however accurate his assessments may be.

"So David, what exactly is it that I need...right now?" He says nothing and casts his eyes downwards, and my mouth curls slightly. "You know, you have some nerve coming here, telling me what to do. You're hardly in any position to give advice on anything." His eyes narrow and I realize I've started something I don't think I want to finish.

"I guess you're not above cheap-shotting. I don't know why that should surprise me." He grasps my chin, peering into my eyes. "You're not onto the drugs again, are you?" I jerk my head away and stand up.

"I think this has gone far enough. Get the fuck out of here." He laughs loudly and doesn't move. This infuriates me. "That's just like you to bring that up, too. I suppose you had nothing to do with it, right? No involvement whatsoever, _Doctor_." He continues to sit there, grinning. "You know, I don't think Ryan would take too kindly to your being here. Should I call him?" I pick up the phone threateningly. I can't believe it's actually come to this. "Or maybe the police?" I can't seem to stop the flow of shit that's currently spilling from my mouth.

"Don't waste your time. Ryan already knows I'm here. In fact, he's the one who asked me to stop by." I whirl around, dropping the phone behind me. "Besides, I think he's probably otherwise engaged at the moment, don't you?"

I feel like I can't breathe. I turn my back on David, trying to get a hold of myself. _Come_ _on_, I tell myself. _You knew he was there already. This isn't news to you_. But it isn't working. I fall to my knees as a wave of dizziness overcomes me, smacking my head on the countertop in the process. I hear David curse, but it's far away and I can't see. There are spiders crawling across my eyes, and they're blinding me.

David's grabbing my arm, I think, but I don't say anything. He says my name over and over again, and I feel him pressing something against my forehead. My vision finally clears, and I see his face, not grinning, not laughing, but something else is there. Disgust. And pity. I begin to sob again, hating him, hating myself, and knowing that this time, I might not be able to stop.


	6. Complicit Carelessness

What the _fuck_? I don't know what the fuck is going on here, but I do know who to blame. Goddamn Lavery.

I gather Greenlee in my arms, depositing her on the couch. Superficial forehead contusion, but that's not what concerns me at the moment. I scan the countertops, see nothing, and then spot Greenlee's purse. She sees me grab it and objects loudly but I ignore her. I empty it out and sort through the crap in there until I spot the tiny container. I read the label and my jaw drops. Where the hell did she get this? No doctor, no respectable doctor, would prescribe it. I turn around, my voice calm.

"Who did you get this from?" She stares at me, looking fearful and trapped, blood running down her face, into her hair, onto Ryan's white leather couch. Realization dawns upon me. I can't believe this. I can't believe that I was so fucking careless. So goddamn blind. But sometimes, when we were together, I would only remember holding her, comforting her, and I would forget all about that side of her personality. The side that was like me. I throw it against the wall behind her, little yellow pills scattering everywhere. Not that there's many left.

"I trusted you. And you promised me!" I stalk towards her, and she winces, cowers, but I don't care. I need to know how many she's been taking. And with what else. "Do you have a death wish Greenlee? Is that what you're trying to do? Kill yourself?" She struggles to sit up and is somewhat successful.

"Of course not. How can you even say that?" She looks at me, trying to seem wounded. But it's not working, not this time. This is too much. She's making me complicit.

"I can say it because mixing these with cocaine is deadly. And you know it. So what, have you been working yourself up? Too much of a coward to go for the full dosage right away?" She begins to look less hurt and more angry. But I don't care. "You wanna kill yourself? Fine. But don't involve me. The last thing I need is the police questioning me as to how long I've been supplying you with illegal drugs! Goddamit!"

I spin around, anger coursing through my veins. "Lavery doesn't even know about your little habit, does he? When he hears the word coke he probably thinks about a caffeine fix. I guess he's not the only one lying in this relationship. He has no idea he's married a little crackwhore." She grabs a pillow, whips it at me angrily. It misses by a mile. "You know what, I feel sorry for you. You're pathetic. Your husband's off fucking the woman he loves so you decide to snort a few lines, along with some other illegal contraband directly from yours truly! As if that's going to solve anything. I can't believe Leo actually lowered himself enough to touch you, much less marry you." I think I've pushed it too far as she lunges off the couch towards me. I restrain her reaching arms and turn her, pressing her against me. She struggles, then hisses:

"And you're so much better? Look at you, David. Your daughter, brother, and mother all died within the past two years. Your father committed suicide. And let's not forget Dixie Martin. Not to mention the fact that Anna left you. No one blames her, though. Everyone in town knows that you're poison. You're fucking poison." I push her away from me, and for the moment the room is silent save for our ragged breaths.

"You bitch." I mean it. And I think she knows it. She stares at me wordlessly as I snatch my keys of the counter. "You should go see a doctor tomorrow. For your forehead." I sneer. She touches it gingerly. "And Greenlee? This time, find someone else to pick up the pieces. I'm done." I can't help but sneak one more glance at her before I close the door. And I wish I hadn't. Because I don't want to remember this, and she at that moment is unforgettable.


	7. What Would Mother Say?

This is just ridiculous. I'm thirty-three years old, not thirteen. I shouldn't feel nervous about staying out too late. I don't have to explain anything to my mother, god rest her soul. I do, however, have to explain things to my wife. But I can't really explain what I don't understand. I suspect she'll be in bed anyway, seeing as it's seven o'clock in the morning. And she couldn't have changed that much in four years, could she? Besides, I don't even know what time she had gone to bed. Hopefully she and David had had a nice talk. I've heard that he can provide a special brand of comfort. I don't really like to think about that.

It killed me to have to go to him. I dislike David Hayward intensely. I don't care that he was Leo's brother, I don't care how fond Greenlee is of him, and I certainly don't care about how many lives he's saved. He didn't save the one that mattered the most. Not to mention how he had treated Gillian in the past, coercing her into sex and all that. He was an asshole, pure and simple. But he knows Greenlee better than anyone else.

He's bad for her, though. I mean, I hate the guy, but he's been through some tough shit. Some of his behavior could only be expected. But after the Leora and Anna stuff happened, he became even more cynical and bitter than ever. And it rubbed off onto Greenlee, unfortunately. But what other alternatives did I have? Jackson? Mary? Useless and out of touch with their daughter, although you had to give points to Jackson for at least trying. Simone and Mia? I wasn't sure if they were even still friends. Besides, those two always seemed to be more on Kendall's side than Greenlee's. David was my last and really, only resort.

I opened the door gingerly. Christ, it was freezing. I look quickly over to the window, wondering if she had left it open accidentally. Well, it was closed, not like that did much good when there was a gaping hole in it. Shit. The building manager's going to love this. As I walk over to check it out it I hear something crunch under my foot and I kneel down to examine it. Pills, a couple of them. I brush them underneath the area rug. Don't want to track them all over the place.

I peek into my bedroom and see Greenlee, fast asleep amidst my pillows and comforter. She really is beautiful. I think she's forgotten that. Who would have ever thought that could happen?

I decide to cook up some breakfast, wondering if the smell of frying bacon will be enough to lure Greenlee from her slumber. God knows she must be starving, seeing as I didn't come back with any food last night. I'll have to buy her a freezer's worth of ice cream to make up for that. I don't even want to know what I'd have to do to get her to forgive me if she knew where I really was last night. I pray that David hadn't said anything.

"Good morning." Greenlee stands in the doorway, looking so small in her oversize robe. She fiddles with the belt and takes in the food sitting on the counter. "Looks good." I gasp as she lifts her head up.

"Jesus! What happened? Are you okay?" Her forehead is purpled and bruised and I can see blood on the clumsily applied bandage. I think back to the broken window. "Did someone break in? You should have called me." Not that I had my phone with me. She smiles slightly as she snatches a piece of bacon off the plate.

"Don't even worry about it Ryan. I slipped and fell last night. Maybe due to lack of sustenance." She narrows her eyes and then laughs. I decide to ignore her last comment.

"Did David look after that for you when he stopped by?" I wonder if it would actually be possible to physically jam my foot into my mouth. I don't want to get into anything but I'm practically begging to because of my idiocy. She stares at me while slowly chewing, and it unnerves me to the point where I turn away, ostensibly to grab the peppermill from the cupboard. Finally, _finally_ swallowing, I guess, she says:

"I don't need any help. I'm fine. There was no need to involve David." She says this calmly, as though we're discussing where we should go for dinner. I don't know if I'm more relieved or nervous by her civil tone.

"I'm sorry-" That was the first thing I learned about women. When they're angry about something, no matter what it is, always start out by apologizing. It goes a long way. Usually. "-But I just thought you might like to see him. I know how close you two are." I'm sidestepping the issue, as is become my habit recently.

"I think I can set up my own meetings, thanks. I don't need someone to baby-sit me while you're out-" My heart leaps in my chest and I set the peppermill down on the counter with a clatter. I hear Greenlee sigh. "- While you're out. I'm a grown woman and I can take care of myself. I thought I made that clear before we got married."

"I know you did. I know you can. That's one of my favourite things about you, your independence." This is bullshit, and I know it. Greenlee Smythe has never been independent. She's clung to whatever guy she's ever been involved with and whenever that goes up in smoke, as it almost invariably does, she runs back to her grandfather. She's never done one thing independently, no matter what she says regarding Fusion. That was a four- person job, and a poor one at that. Twenty-seven years old and still nothing to show for her life. That's not independence; that's failure. "I was just worried about you. You've seemed a little down lately. I thought David could cheer you up since I've been doing a pretty crappy job." I smile weakly.

"I know. I'm sorry that I've been so depressing to be around." I rush to contradict her, telling her that I haven't exactly been the life of the party either. And isn't that what life is? One giant party?


	8. Stay Away

I can't deal with this.

I've already trashed the cabin, and now I can't help but feel like a petulant child, even though my anger had felt righteous at the time. And it had provided a sort of metaphorical symmetry, seeing as I had trashed my relationship with Greenlee in a fit of mindless rage as well.

It's as though there are two separate factions at war within me. On one hand, I know what Greenlee did was wrong. She had gone behind my back, rifling through my belongings like a thief until she found what she wanted. Hell, she was a thief. But I had given her the drugs in the first place, when my words no longer soothed her and I was out of my mind trying to help her, help myself. Hell, I had been guilty of a little partaking on my own behalf, as well. But I was a doctor. I kept it under control. Greenlee was uncontrollable.

And I had known about the coke. Leo knew too. He had assured me countless times that they kept it under control, that it wasn't a big deal. I didn't approve, of course, but hey, they were kids. They would outgrow it soon enough, just like anyone else who had too much time and too much money on their hands. Not to mention a little too much goddamn European influence. But Leo hadn't had a chance to, and Greenlee wasn't slowing down. If anything, she had begun to speed up. And yet, I had still given her the drugs, thinking that as long as I was in control there would be no harm done, and that I was simply allowing for a blissful retreat from certain harsh realities.

So I'm partly to blame for this mess too. And not for the first time, I think back to the words that Greenlee had thrown at me. Poison, huh? Well, I am. But just because it's the truth doesn't make it hurt any less. If anything, it makes it hurt more. Which is why I don't let myself give a damn about anyone, don't let anyone get close to me. Except Greenlee.

The fear that I had felt as she collapsed had been real. Like my chest was gripped is an ironclad vise from which I couldn't escape. Remembering her eyes, glassy, unseeing, made my breath catch, even now. The sense of relief I felt when I realized she wasn't seriously injured had been palpable.

Is that how you feel when you're in love? Sad when they fall and happy when they get back up? It seemed so simplistic.

At these times I try to remember how things had felt with Anna, but the last bitter stages of our relationship had colored my view on all that occurred before it, which didn't allow for a very accurate assessment.

But it was irrelevant. I don't want to be in love with Greenlee Smythe, so I won't be. She's self-destructive.

Almost all of her relationships have ended in failure, the majority of the time with only herself to blame. And not just her romantic relationships either. Greenlee has no girlfriends. And when she does manage to make a friend of the same gender, they invariably end up sleeping with her father. Snerk. I suppose the closest she's ever come was Leo, because he had always had that magical gift of making everyone feel comfortable, managing a connection with even the most distant. And, as far as their idea of fun went, Leo and Greenlee were made for each other. It seems impossible for two people to be better matched than those two had been. What a travesty that God had taken it away.

But not only that, she was a bitch. A domineering, controlling, bitch. I've never had anything against strong women; if they want to butch it out in the world like men there's no reason why they shouldn't be able to. But Greenlee takes it to the extreme. On her good days she's simply cutting. On the others, she's downright abusive. What Greenlee needs, and what she hasn't been able to find, is someone with the calm presence and patience to keep her in check. And I have enough sense to realize that I don't really fit the bill. The fact that she's beautiful, witty, and rich is merely the pretty outer wrapping, serving to hide the seething monstrosity inside.

But I can't say that I wasn't happy when I was with her. Even when she was still married, we had had so many good times together. Sometimes with Leo there.

Sometimes not.

I like to think that my feelings had remained innocent until Leo died, but I know that I'm only lying to myself. I had wanted her while she was still my brother's. Hell, she still was.

I guess I can blame Roger. My association with him was purely out of necessity, as I found his company mostly distasteful. Which was why on certain occasions I couldn't help but feel for Greenlee, when Roger would speak sparingly about her early life. This cultivated a kind of fascination within me, as I was intrigued by the shameful gaps that he had left unfilled. I would sometimes ask questions, most of which were met with a blank look. He didn't know one goddamn about the girl who had lived her life, for better or worse, as his daughter. In fact, I began to think that we were kindred spirits, what with the absent father and overbearing, poisonous mother. But I had been confused. Because we were kindred spirits, but not in the way I thought.

There was a knock on the door, but I didn't move to answer it. Because I had long ago realized the undeniable, terrible truth, that I did love Greenlee, despite her, despite me, and it was going to kill me. Because I couldn't have her.

"David." I didn't turn around. I didn't want to. "David, don't." I still said nothing, as my throat had closed painfully. "David...p-please."

I left her. I stalked off into the bedroom, cursing the tiny cabin. Utterly useless when you were trying to avoid someone. Not that I wasn't used to it. I had spent the last months of my relationship with Anna basically forgetting she existed, despite the fact that we lived in the same house, slept in the same bed.

"Will you listen to me? There's no reason to be so goddamn immature." I heard the door close behind her and I slowly turn around.

"Your head looks terrible. I see you didn't take my advice. Again." Greenlee rolled her eyes. _Now who's being immature?_

"It's fine. That's not why I'm here." I notice that her tone of voice is somewhat different then before. But I can't deal with this right now. I know myself well enough to know when I'm too agitated to be rational.

"You know what Greenlee, I don't care why you're here. I think I heard just about enough of you last night, don't you?"

"Okay." She sighs, looks away. Then she comes closer, and clasps my arm tightly. I jerk involuntarily but she doesn't loosen her grip. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for what I said. I didn't mean any-most of it." What an incredibly weak apology. Did she really come over here just for that? I refuse to even acknowledge it. "But David, you said some things too. Things that were absolutely not true and even if they were, you forgot your own involvement. Which was pretty heavy, if I remember correctly." Now it makes sense. She came here to get an apology from me. And not just for last night either. For everything that happened before.

Is it wrong for me to consider those times some of the best I've had? Just because I was able to spend long, uninterrupted amounts of time with the woman that I, in my tentative and uncertain daze, loved? Even though my brother, her husband, had just died? I don't know. And for some reason, the fact that she regrets those times makes me angry. Irrational? I don't know. I just don't know anymore.

"I'm surprised you can remember anything, seeing as how you were doped up most of the time. Just shut up. Everything I said last night was true." The words slip from my mouth quietly and seemingly carelessly. Greenlee is speechless for a moment. But just for a moment.

"Oh God. Oh my God." She sits down heavily upon my bed, finally releasing her vise-like grip on my arm. "David, I think I've done something terrible." She looks up at me beseechingly, and I'm momentarily confused by the change in her attitude. Gone is her resolve, her anger. In its place is neediness, and fear.

"What are you talking about?" She plays with the sheets for a moment before answering. I really wish that we weren't in my bedroom, on my bed. Because now, suddenly, I'm sitting beside her, my hand hovering uncertainly in the air.

"The marriage. Ryan. Everything." She still isn't looking at me. I don't think she'd like what she'd see.

"We can annul the marriage. Mistakes happen." My voice is steady, unwavering. I have no idea why. She jerks her head towards me, eyes wide and white.

"He was with her, David. Last night. I mean, I thought I could-this thing, I don't know. I thought that I could do it, that it didn't matter. But I think it does. And I don't know what to do." She's crying now, shoulders shaking in silent despair. I place my arm on one gingerly. I can feel the bone.

"Greenlee."

Maybe she senses something in my tone, I don't know. But then her lips are on mine and her hands are on my chest and her body is trying desperately to be close to mine and I can't stand it. My mind has played tricks like this on me before. But never this good, this real.

I lean back, letting her do what she pleases. Because this is my dream. It's only her nightmare.


	9. Dining Alone

I am not a fastidious cleaner. Not even close. But I do like my home to look a certain way, have a certain style. Right now, that style is colliding with Greenlee's, and not altogether successfully either. Greenlee's furniture is exotic, ornate, a royal gilded table from Burma, a fringed and crystal lamp from France. Looking at it cluttering up the sleek modern simplicity of my home is giving me a headache.

Where is she anyway?

We had made plans to meet for dinner, somewhere nice and fancy as a way to apologize for the dinner no-show the night before. But apparently she had lost track of time. I hadn't seen her since breakfast. She couldn't still be out at the nursery, could she? Did our home really need that much greenery?

Well, I guess I may as well go. Those reservations took a lot of hard work on my part, being so short notice. But I certainly wasn't going to dine alone. That had never been my style. I pick up the phone and stare at it momentarily, perusing my options. I want to call Kendall. I ache to call Kendall. But I know that I can't. Then I make a snap decision, and start dialing.

Author's Note- Ryan gets short chapters, because Ryan is boring.


	10. Bystander to Denial

Shit.

Shit shit shit.

I toss my keys to the valet attendant and sprint of the stairs, my heels clacking on the outdoor marbled flooring loudly, so loudly. I'm also shivering uncontrollably, having left the warm confines of my car and in the process thrusting myself into the unusually chilly May weather. At least, I think that's what it is.

As soon as I enter Le Calais, I glance around wildly, ignoring the query of the maitre d'. Ryan must be here somewhere. Then I find him, listening intently to whatever his dining companion is saying. I take a deep breath, pulling my thin wrap sweater tighter against my body and willing it to stop shaking. I can do this.

"Sorry I'm late. Hope you saved a seat." They look up at me, and all I see is Ryan's accusatory face.

"There's always a seat for my personal favourite Pine Valley midget. Siddown Greenlee." Tad smiles at me and I smile back gratefully. Ryan still hasn't said anything. What _is_ his problem?

"Have you ordered yet? I'm absolutely famished." _Now, why would that be?_

"Well, you're in luck then." He pours me a glass of wine and I gulp it down quickly. I need to steady myself. I turn to Ryan.

"Hey, I'm sorry."

"That's alright, dear. It gave me a chance to share with Tad the news of our recent nuptials. He was pretty surprised." Ryan smiled ruefully, but not at me. Tad laughed.

"Yeah, you could say that. But it's, ah, great news. I'm happy for both of you." Tad's voice wavered slightly and I didn't care that he was being disingenuous. I really didn't. I order some smoked salmon, but as soon as it's placed in front of me I immediately lose my appetite. Ryan looked at me questioningly and I tried to give him a reassuring smile.

"So, what, did you buy a whole greenhouse? I was getting worried about you." This was said in between bites of his taco shell salad. Somehow his choice in foods did not surprise me.

"Ahhh well you know. I did a little shopping too and it completely slipped my mind that I was supposed to meet you." How incredibly lame. I found it hard to believe that I actually used to be _good_ at lying.

"Just married and already having to make appointments to see each other." Its obvious Tad isn't buying our love story for one moment. "That's the modern world, I guess." Ryan nods vigorously.

"Yeah. It's crazy. So, what did you buy?"

"Um, nothing really." He looks at me sharply. "I just thought that we should go shopping later to pick out some stuff together."

I think Tad senses the tension between us as he tries to be placating.

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea. You know how it is when two people move in together. It's like two worlds colliding." He laughs. This time Ryan doesn't.

I feel as though Ryan can read my mind, as though he knows where I was. That I wasn't at the nursery or the mall, but instead tangled up in the sheets of my former brother in law, letting out all my frustrations and fears, again and again and again. But that's impossible. There's no way that he could know.

And then my breath catches.

Because David has just stalked into the room, glaring at no one in particular. No one, that is, until he spots my companions and me. Then it's directed at us. At me.

Ryan sees him as well.

"Well, look who it is." I don't understand why David's here, why he's doing this. Why did I ever tell him where I was going? Stupid, stupid, stupid. "David, join us will you?"

I can see the beginnings of a sneer on David's face but he comes over anyway. He seems intent on torturing me.

"Well this is a coincidence. Haven't seen you in awhile, Tad." David seats himself beside me, and I hold my breath, trying to slow my rapidly pounding heart. He reaches across me for the wine, and his arm brushes against my breast. Bastard.

"Well, I don't think you've seen much of anyone lately. At least, that's what it seems like." Tad cannot be seriously wanting to stage some sort of intervention for David here, can he? Besides, what does he care? He hates David. As does everyone in this goddamn town who is moral and good.

"Yeah, well, I've been busy." I'm horrified to feel the beginnings of a smile on face. My hand flies to cover my mouth. The men look at me questioningly. Except David, whose mouth is pressed into a thin smirk. What an asshole.

"I uh, I bit my tongue." I mumble, my face burning.

Whatever.

Author's Note- I guess by now it's pretty obvious that I'm not really up on my recent Pine Valley history. . . I took a bit of a hiatus sometime before Greenlee and Leo got married and I've just started watching again. So bear with me, please.


	11. Orders

I'm glad I decided to go out for dinner. This is fun. Not as much fun as I was having before, mind you, but it rates a pretty close second.

Look at her. She hates this, couldn't be more uncomfortable if she wanted to be. Her misery is practically radiating off of her in waves. I'm surprised it's not visible. And Ryan. That idiot has no idea what's going on, although I can tell that he knows that something's up. If he knew...well, then the shit would really hit the fan. He'd have a warrant out for my death, ostensibly because I had taken advantage of her. But I know what would really be bothering him. It's a pride thing with him, always has been. With all of us, I guess.

I still can't believe that it happened. That less than an hour ago, Greenlee was lying in my bed, in my arms, after the most amazing...well, I don't even know what to call it. Sex? I guess. Whatever it was, it was good. I loved it. I loved her.

And then she left.

_Ryan's waiting for me at Le Calais_. That shouldn't have been the first thing she said. It should have been something, anything else. But that's when I buried my head underneath my pillow, keeping it there until I heard the door close quietly. I wanted to go after her, grab her, keep her here. To pull her back into my arms, back into my bed, and just hold her, feel her. But I was paralyzed with confusion. And fear. Fear of rejection, or maybe it was fear of the truth. I couldn't get a hold of my thoughts. I still hadn't. And that frightened me.

So then I came here. I shouldn't have but I couldn't help myself. It was the only thing I could think about. I mean, I had always imagined what it would be like, but fantasy was always different than reality. Better? Maybe, but not this time. It was as though I knew everything there was to know about her, her body, but hadn't realized it until that very moment. And when she came, my breath had stilled, my head burrowed in the nape of her neck, smelling her sweat. Straining to hear her voice. But she had been silent, and I was filled with a sick sense of relief.

But parts of it had felt strange, and even though I tried to deny it, wrong. It did feel wrong that my lips were touching the same places Leo's had, that my fingers were tracing the tiny birthmark above her thigh where Leo's hands had once rested. But he was dead. And I was selfish.

Suddenly Greenlee's face drains of colour, and she brings her napkin to her face, gagging harshly. I rise quickly, thinking that she's choking, ready to spring into action. But that's not it. She simply threw up. And once again, I'm ashamed. I did this.

Ryan and Tad stare, slack-jawed, at her now flushed face. Ryan is the first speak.

"Greenlee...are you alright? Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?" I hate him. Even when he's trying to be caring and concerned he fails miserably. Tad laughs nervously.

"Guess that salmon wasn't exactly fresh." Some of the other diners have begun to stare at us. This is over.

"Come on, I'll take you home." She doesn't answer. Ryan does.

"Greenlee, go with David. We'll finish up here and then I'll be home to check on you. Maybe I'll bring you back some ice cream." Their relationship sickens me, and not just because of the obvious reasons. He's so condescending, so patriarchal, that it's almost incestuous. I certainly find it to be inappropriate. But then, that pretty much goes without saying.

"No, I'm fine. I want to stay." She looks at Ryan pleadingly but he refuses to relent.

"No, no way. You're sick, and you're going home. David's a doctor, he should check you out to make sure everything's okay." I can tell Ryan thinks he's handling this well. If only he knew. Greenlee's eyes narrow and she rises from the table sharply, knocking her chair to the floor. More heads turn.

"Fine. Whatever you say." Her voice is like ice. Ryan watches her leave, sighs, and then turns to me.

"I appreciate this David. I know she hasn't been the most enjoyable company lately." His smug and patronizing tone makes me want to throttle him.

"And yet, strangely enough, it's still infinitely more enjoyable than yours, Lavery." I hear Tad chuckle. "Shut up, Tad."

Then I leave.


	12. The Best Trip is Always Unplanned

The temperature has dropped even further. The valet attendant doesn't seem to notice as he has taken over five minutes to get my car. Talk about crappy service.

"You're not driving." I tense, and then turn around.

"David, no. Just no. I don't want to talk to you right now." If my words hurt him, he doesn't show it. But why would they? David doesn't give a damn about me anymore. Today proved it.

"What a loss. But that doesn't change the fact that you're in no condition to drive." I can't believe this. What is everyone's problem? It's not as if I went into cardiac arrest at the table. Even though I am genetically predisposed. Oh wait, no I'm not. My eyes sting as I bite my lip angrily. Why am I even thinking about this now? The My Two Dads thing has been played out pretty much to its expiration date. But that doesn't stop me from thinking about it. What chance did I ever have? I was conceived then raised within a web of deceit.

And what's bred in the bone...

"Well, okay then, what exactly did you have in mind?" I know exactly what he has in mind but I'm being purposefully difficult. I'm sick of people telling me what to do but I don't know how to make them stop in a way that doesn't involve being passive-aggressively annoying and hostile.

He doesn't say anything and simply takes my keys from the attendant who apparently decided that now would be a good time to return with my car. How thoughtful of him. He gets in the drivers seat before I can say anything.

"Are you getting in?" He asks, poking his head out the window. I open my mouth, but am speechless with outrage. The door is being held open for me, and I'm ushered somewhat unwillingly inside.

Fuck this.

"Get out of my car, David."

David laughs and guns the engine.

This is insane. How do I manage to get involved with these situations? David is the last person I need to see, seeing as how I shot our relationship completely to hell a couple of hours ago. Not that I had been working alone.

I've avoided thinking about what happened between David and I. Whenever I do, my chest constricts and thoughts rush into my head all at once. And then all I remember is getting out of bed and David not saying anything, recrimination and regret in his eyes before crushing his pillow atop his head, as if he were trying to block out what had just happened.

What I had made happen.

It was a mistake, I know that. But in the middle of the madness, I couldn't help but feel, I don't know, something akin to happiness. It's been so long since I've experienced happiness that I wasn't sure if that was it. I'm still not sure; I guess it might have been. However, that ended as soon as I returned to Earth and realized that I had just fucked my late husband's brother, as well as my best friend. Goddamn, Greenlee.

I scrabble furiously at the climate controls before my shaking hands manage to turn the heat on full blast. I think a vacation might be in order. I haven't been to Mexico lately. It's so nice this time of year. What if I didn't come back?

"From where?"

I turn my head sharply to the left, where David is looking at me questioningly.

"What?" I manage to gasp.

"From where?" Did I say that out loud? Or has David mined himself even more deeply inside my head than ever before? I need to sleep, because I think I've really started to lose it. "If you didn't come back from where? Where are you going?"

"Nowhere...I'm-could you drive any slower? God, my grandfather drives faster than you." I'm not lying. David is an amazingly cautious driver. But then again, Grandaddy was always a speedster.

"The traffic is slow, not me. Besides, I wouldn't want to ruin this nice piece of machinery. Let me guess: Graduation gift from Woody? Oh wait; you never did end up graduating, did you? My mistake." He lowers his voice conspiratorially "And Greenlee, you can hardly even tell." I rub my temples, trying to ignore him. David knows how to push my buttons. He always has.

_ That's for sure._

Shut up! I scream silently. That's it, tomorrow, I'll go to the doctor's, maybe try a shrink again, anything to stop this. I think I'm saying this to God because I'm praying, I'm praying so hard that this darkness, this terrible, messed-up life will somehow come back into focus again.

Please God, please.


	13. Suture

Biting your lips makes them redder. Sexier. Sometimes I do it until they bleed. Which, really, is not sexy at all. But I'm sure there must be a happy medium. I'm trying to find it now, as I'm standing outside the bus stop in this insanely cold weather. And, the careless and unthinking fool that I am, I don't even have my jacket. I thought that it was too bulky and too much of a burden, but God, what I wouldn't give to have it now. I don't think I was thinking too clearly when I was packing. I don't even remember what I packed. Great. They probably aren't even my clothes. Georgie's always storing her uglies in my closet.

I only have one hundred and sixty-four dollars. That's enough for a hotel room for what, two, three days, tops? After that, I'm out of ideas. I've been told I'm not much of a thinker. I need to find a job. And if I can get a job at a hotel, I could live there too. That's about the extent of my thinking right now.

I don't know why I picked Pine Valley. No reason, really, except that it sounded nice. Beyond that, it was just a speck on a map. A tiny, insignificant speck. Maybe that's what appeals to me. I can become something new here. Something other than Maxie Jones, the girl who always gets screwed over, literally as well as figuratively. Port Charles was suffocating me; seeing the same people that I've seen everyday for my whole entire life was getting tiresome. Or maybe I'm just trying to outrun the despair that's been closing in on me ever since Zander died.

I still can't believe it. I'm not sure if I actually do. I've read a lot about the grieving process, and I think I might be stuck in the denial stage. Because I haven't accepted that Zander's dead. In fact, I feel pretty strongly that he's still alive. I think I've gone crazy. God, I miss him.

He had always been some sort of distant figure to me. The kind of guy that Mac would warn me to stay away from, but that I still couldn't help but have a crush on. I mean, he was really, _really_ good-looking. So goddamn gorgeous. But not only that, he was genuinely nice. I could tell. I remember, maybe two years ago, telling him about the transplant. And I didn't even know him. But he was so earnest, so sincere, that I knew he would listen. That he would care. And that what I was saying actually meant something to him. That might have been when my crush turned into full-blown, slavish devotion. But soon after that Kyle came into my life, and Zander Smith retreated back into the periphery.

But I had heard things. I would have been hard-pressed not to. I knew that he had gotten himself involved with the mob again. I mean, I had heard stories about his past: Drug dealing, kidnapping, shootings. I wasn't sure if I ever believed them though, no matter what Mac would say. But after Emily left him for Nicholas, he started working for Faith Roscoe, and he had become something of a menacing figure around town. But not to me. By that time Kyle was gone and I was bored and lonely, a teenaged girl with too much time on her hands. And I would see him around town in those suits, looking so wealthy, so powerful, so old, and I would will him to look at me. To smile at me, his eyes intense like the way I remembered. But he never did.

And then everything went crazy.

I don't even remember what I had been doing in that empty suture room. But hearing him hiss my name, coming out of the shadows, made my breath catch and my heart still. I helped him then, not even knowing why the police were hunting for him, only knowing that he hadn't done anything wrong. There had never been any doubt in my mind.

I brought him to my house, to my bedroom, only mildly embarrassed about the underwear on the floor and the self-consciously _au courante_ posters on the wall. He didn't seem to care, sitting there while I hurriedly picked up my dirty clothes. Eventually I relaxed. But lying there, my mind too jumbled and jangled to attempt sleep, when I knew he was on the floor only inches away, was torture. I hope my feelings for him weren't as obvious as I sometimes felt they were.

I know that he didn't feel that way about me. How could I not, since he was always going on about his love for Emily. God, how I hated her. Usually I like to hold people accountable for their own actions. But Emily drove Zander to crime, to Faith. She told him that she loved him; she married him, all the while knowing it was a lie. She broke his heart, really she did. And in a way, she broke mine.

My favourite memory was prom, even though I didn't go. Well, not technically. My picture certainly wouldn't appear in any of the yearbook photos. But I wouldn't have had it any other way. Just being in Zander's arms, being close to him, was a million times better than being with anyone else, much less any guy from my high school. And for a second, after he finished lamenting about his none-too-great experience at Emily's prom, I could imagine that Zander felt the same way about me as I did about him, and that there was no one else out there but us.

It was a moment. One of the few pure moments I've ever had.

And then the fire.

That's when the good memories stop. And no one understands how I feel. _Cheer up_, they say, _Mac's getting better! Your mother has really worked wonders!_ And I am happy, happy and relieved that Mac is okay, that he's going to recover. The guilt I would have felt had he been killed would have been too much to bear. But I'm not happy that Felicia's back. I refuse to refer to her as my mother, since she hasn't earned that title since throwing it away like so much garbage. She abandoned me, abandoned Georgie. And now it's too late. I don't need her anymore. I don't need anyone but myself.

_Love only comes once, Maxie_. His words, so soft, so sweet. _Don't miss it._

He needn't have worried.

I hadn't missed it.

Author's Note- Okay, I'm clueless as to the direction of this story, so I thought I'd give myself a bit of a breather and bring in two of my favourite characters, Maxie and Zander. Yes, I have the attention span of a gnat. Plus, I'm a total Zander fangirl. How could you not be? Chad Brannon can act circles around half of daytime! And yet he got but a fraction of the screentime that Maurice Bernard had...and Sonny is a terrible character! I have serious hatred for that character...but anyway...


	14. Solitude Together

I've always liked driving. The feeling of solitude is outstanding. Just you and an open road. But I can't help but feel miffed in regards to Greenlee's comments. Did I really drive more slowly than a seventy-five year old man? I hit the gas a little harder.

When I dropped her off I had to will myself not to go upstairs with her. I had to fight my doctoral urges that wanted desperately to fix that bandage on her forehead. It was applied terribly. But I knew that it would be pushing things too much, even more than showing up at the restaurant had. I could see the relief in her eyes when I hailed a taxi, and it was like a punch in the gut, even though I knew it was coming. But I've come to the conclusion that I can't force her to love me or, hell, to even want me. That's one thing I've managed to learn over the years, in spite of myself.

So right now I'm trying my damndest to push Greenlee out of my thoughts, into the dark recesses if my mind where I put all those remnants of Anna and Leora, and, even farther back, where my mother and father are kept. She'll be in fine company.

It starts to rain, the weather reflecting my mood pretty accurately, for once. But what starts out as a fine drizzle soon develops into a full-on storm, with the rain pounding so hard against my windshield that I fear it will break. Visibility's turned to shit and I consider pulling off the road. Which is exactly what a seventy-five year old man would do in a similar situation, so I continue driving, this time with renewed determination. I'm thirty-eight. I'm entitled to some recklessness.

_Fuuuuuuhhhhhhcccckkkk_-

I narrowly avoid the figure that suddenly appears in front of my car, swerving to the right and hitting the brakes. I sit there for a moment, breathing heavily, trying to understand what just happened.

_David, you almost killed someone_.

I get out of the car, shielding my eyes from the onslaught of water. This person, this _girl_, is standing on the sidewalk a few feet away, not moving. I call out to her but it's impossible to hear. So I grab her arm, wrench open the car door, and motion her inside. Should it worry me that she only hesitates for a moment before getting in? What's become of our distrustful society? But really, the rain is painful, beating into my back like a drum. Who wouldn't want to escape it? Unwillingly I'm reminded of Greenlee's words in the car.

Who wouldn't want to just _escape_?


	15. Makeshift Shelter

I'm not sure what I'm doing right now. Oh wait, I think I do. I'm being reckless and stupid and going against everything I've learned as a surrogate daughter of police chief Scorpio. But, Lord, I just wanted to get out of that rain.

So badly that I'm now sitting in the car of the possibly crazy man who almost mowed me down while I was crossing, legally mind you, at a crosswalk. But it's so warm and dry that I don't think I'd budge even if he started singing show tunes while simultaneously waving a gun in my face.  
  
"Why aren't you wearing a jacket?" That's an odd thing to say. Especially in that accusatory tone. I mean, who just nearly killed whom here?

"I left it at home." My voice comes out strong and confident, despite the childish content of my words. I'm pleasantly surprised to find that that's how I feel as well. This place is having a good affect on me already.

"Well, next time don't." I stare at him incredulously. Is he giving me a lecture? Who is this person? His style of driving certainly doesn't allow for that sanctimonious tone. I feel like now is the perfect time to say something clever and cutting, but then think better of it. Small steps, Maxie. "I'll drive you home." He starts the car. "Where do you live?"

"The Pine Valley Inn." I saw it in the brochure I was reading on the bus. Sure, it seemed a little pricey, but for some reason I don't think I could bring myself to stay at one of those sleazy rattraps. Maxie Jones had developed higher standards since relocating to Pine Valley.

Now it's his turn to stare.

"You live at the Inn? Well, I guess we have something else in common, besides our mutual love for rainy weather." All right then. Maybe this guy was a little off center. But he was the only thing standing between me and the ongoing downpour outside, so I plaster I smile on my face.

"Well, that's convenient. I'm Maxie, by the way." I instantly regret what I say as I wait for the laughter that usually accompanies my name. I guess he's a little too old for that. Regardless, I decide to introduce myself as Maria from now on.

"David Hayward." For some reason his name sounds familiar, although I have no idea why it would. I've certainly never seen this man before in my life. I'd probably remember. He's pretty hot. "Nice to meet you, David." He grunts something in return and I sigh and stare out the window, even though I can't see a thing.

How metaphorical.


	16. Fuck and Forget

I'm getting pretty damn sick of this.

"Greenlee, let me in." She doesn't answer, but I hear her sobs ratchet up another notch. Not to sound like a martyr, but really, how much more of this am I expected to take?

I've known Greenlee for a number of years. She's always been very unique, and unapologetically so. But I can't remember her ever being so distant, so isolated, so manic. And once again, my mind tries to stop this thought process, attempt to contain the realization that I've drawn nearer and nearer to in the past while. But it's something that has become harder and harder to ignore.

"Sweetie, just-I just want to know what's wrong. Just open the door and tell me what's wrong." It's as if my words are being carried off by an imagined breeze before they can reach her ears. All I want is some sort of reaction. Any sort of reaction that isn't tears would, at this point, be tantamount to success for me. I decide to choose my next words carefully. "Honey...is it Leo? Are you thinking about Leo?"

She quiets abruptly. This is unbelievable. I want to congratulate myself but know it is too soon. I have to proceed very carefully.

"Because, if you are...we could-I mean, I know that I would really like to talk about him. He was like a brother to me, Greenlee. We can talk...would you like that?" I hold my breath. Then I hear her feet padding across the floor and I inwardly rejoice. I can do this. I don't need David's help dealing with Greenlee. Besides, he wasn't home when I called.

She wrenches open the door and I'm ashamed and embarrassed that her wide- open eyes are on some small level frightening me. The gauntness of her face really emphasizes their largesse. I gingerly cross into the room and sit down on the bed, motioning, perhaps unwisely, for her to sit next to me. There's no telling what someone can do while in a delicate emotional state. Having been in such states numerous times myself and having done numerous regrettable things while in such states has given me a certain amount of authority on this subject.

"I miss him too. And it's okay, you know, if you want to talk about him. Because I want you to be able to talk to me. I love you and I want you to be happy." I mean everything I'm saying. Really. I just want things to be like they were before, when she wasn't crying all the time. Maybe because that way it was easier to pretend that nothing was wrong with her. I put my arm around her and draw her close, holding her tightly, feeling her sharp bones. She's bruising me, has been for a long time.

"I know you do." She's silent for several moments, not reciprocating my physical closeness, but not moving away either. "But I don't want to talk about Leo." She looks at me then, stares up at me, her eyes still wide, still wild. She wraps her arm around my neck and kisses me, harder then I remember her ever doing before, but I don't care. I rise up slightly, still holding her, my mouth fused to hers, reveling in her slightly jagged teeth and ashy tasting mouth in the way that I've wanted to. I don't really know for how long, though. I hate myself for doing this, for not stopping, but my mind's feeble and faint protests are no match for my body's overwhelming, pounding need.

I want to have sex. I want to fuck someone who isn't tall, who isn't as thin as a whisper, whose hair is straight without the slightest hint of curl. Greenlee can help me forget.

She's not the only one who can be selfish.


	17. Dealers

She lied to me.

This girl, this _Maxie_, doesn't have a room after all. And it looks like that isn't going to change any time soon.

"I don't understand. Why can't you just accept cash?" Her voice is wavering, the voice of a girl trying to be mature but wanting to burst into tears and hide underneath her blankets. I was planning on going straight upstairs for a hot shower but I decide to stay for the resolution.

"Listen, dear" Natalie casts a disdainful glance towards the wad of bills clutched in Maxie's palm "you can't just show up here and demand a room. This is an establishment. Reservations must be made." This, simply put, is pure bullshit. If this girl were a Chandler or a Smythe or hell, even a Martin, she would be given a room no questions asked. But she's young and doesn't look particularly well off, so she's of no use to anyone here. If she had told me the truth I could have saved her the hassle and driven her directly to The Pine Cone. Oh, the follies of youth.

This has become almost too cringe-worthy for me to observe, as there are now curious bystanders listening to this sad display. I think I even feel a little twinge in my heart. What has happened to me? On second thought, it could very well be indigestion. Tad had been right about one thing; that salmon had definitely not been Grade A. A shame really, considering the price.

"Natalie, lovely evening isn't it? Feel lucky you've been indoors, unlike this poor lady. Open that warm, charitable heart of yours and give her a room. Right now she reminds of a certain other woman who was unable to find room at the inn. Why, it's almost sacrilegious to deny her one!"

JR. That little shit. I saw him eyeing her from across the room and I should have guessed he'd make a play for her. She was just his type. She did, after all, look exactly like his wife.

The exploits of Babe Chandler were common knowledge to pretty much anyone with eyes and ears, but the way JR fucked his way through half the men and women in town in some sort of hackneyed revenge plot against her was downright embarrassing. For both of them. Especially since the types of cases I had been treating recently would make it appear he wasn't being too safe about it, either. The guy is a walking venereal disease.

But he is one smooth talker, as it appears Maxie is now staying in one of the Pine Valley Inn Suites, courtesy of Chandler Enterprises. Not that I expect her to be utilizing that room tonight.

She's as easy as a goddamn game of Go Fish for him. But that's them the breaks, I guess.

I wonder where Krystal is?


	18. Unflinching

This seems eerily familiar. A rich, good-looking guy being nice to me? A year ago I would have been flattered. But Kyle had made sure that that would never happen again.

I can't believe how naïve I had been. One day I was just Maxie Jones, the girl who hardly had any friends and no one ever noticed, and the next I was Maxie Jones, girlfriend of the most popular guy in school. At the time I had actually thought he liked me. God. The incarnation of Porn Star Maxie had helped clear up a couple of things for me, but not before the whole town had found out how he had used me. There's no telling how many people saw what happened on the web cam. Whenever I think about it my chest tightens and I feel like crying. So I don't really think about it.

Walking through the halls

_Maxie, suck my dick!_

Sitting down at my desk

_Oh Kyle, fuck me harder!_

On the school bus

_Maxie, why don't you come back here and give us a little of what you gave Radcliff?_

I didn't graduate. School just wasn't what it used to be for me.

So now, standing here with JR, whose sleazy charm is practically oozing from his pores, it's all I can do but refrain from rolling my eyes.

He wants to get laid?

I guess he'll be disappointed. For like, two seconds, until he spots some other stupid-looking girl, one who hasn't already been used and thrown away.

But that's not going to stop me from taking advantage of this free room. I think I'm playing with fire but my financial situation is too precarious to be cautious. I don't think I could stand the humiliation of having to return home.

"JR, I just want to thank you. You've really saved my life." I try my best to sound obliviously grateful. He smiles, showing me all of his perfectly capped teeth.

"You seem like a nice girl. I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if you were outside in this weather-well, any weather I guess. There's no telling what could happen." Does it look like I'm scared of whatever the streets of Pine Valley hold? I'm Maria Maximilliana Jones. I hardly know my biological father. I had a heart transplant when I was just a kid. A mobster held me hostage. Losing my virginity became an internet _event_. I overdosed on ecstasy. My friend was killed in a fire.

This fucker is nothing. Less than nothing.

I've had just about enough of this game so I grab my key and thank JR again, vetoing his suggestion that we grab some dinner, saying that I'm too tired. I'm also dying to take a hot shower. The rain hasn't done me any favors.

I wave to JR once more before turning towards the elevators. The door is being held open for me.

"Well, looks like you lucked out. Free rooms are hard to come by. Here they're practically unheard of." His gaze is unnerving me and the glass and marble interior of the elevator doesn't help. It allows his presence to be multiplied.

"Well, yeah."

"Where are your parents Maxie?" Does he really think he can talk to me like this? As if I'm a child who isn't able to converse on a normal level? Maybe I'm not as smart as Georgie, but I'm not an idiot. I don't have to be talked down to.

"My _father_ lives in his home in _Alaska_, _David_." I look straight into his eyes, daring him to contradict me. He smiles, but doesn't.

I'm trying to sound tough and blasé but I can't help but be intimidated by this guy. He's older, for one thing. He looks at least thirty. And he totally exudes an angry, unfriendly vibe. He reminds me of those customers at Kelly's who were always brusque and rude, who acted as though the world owed them something simply because they were alive. Outwardly I complained but truly I wished that I could be as confident and purposeful as them. In a way, David seems to epitomize what I hope to be. I'm thankful when the elevator stops on my floor.

"So, I guess I'll be seeing you around." I smile, trying to make nice. David stares at me appraisingly until the doors begin to slide shut and then mutters something that sounds like _yeah_ _sure_.

As I head to my room I'm strangely unsettled. And my wet clothes are making me shiver.

Author's Note- Next chapter is for Greenlee. It's going to be a big one . . . maybe I'll try to explain her recent skanky behavior. I mean, two different guys in the same day? Like, ew!


	19. Safely Scared

I've never really thought about my life before. Never gone deeper than the most off-hand, cursory examination. I mean really, what was the point? When you're happy you're happy, and when you're sad you're sad. Analyzing it just seemed like a waste of my time. Besides, that's what I paid my shrink for.

But now, lying in bed, with Ryan sleeping peacefully and seemingly untroubled beside me, I feel like now is the time to venture into that uncharted territory of self-introspection.

I remember in my first year of college I had to do a case study for my sociology class on nature versus nurture. The whole premise of the assignment had made me vaguely uneasy, for reasons that, predictably, I hadn't delved too deeply into. I put it off until two days before it was due, and then stayed up late into the night ending up with a half-assed, bullshitting report that had earned me a B. Mission accomplished, I had erased it from my mind and hadn't thought of it since.

I think I know what bothered me about it. The fact that my life could have been used as exhibit A in that debate had disturbed me.

An only child, whose parents shared an openly acrimonious and hostile relationship. A big house, but devoid of any personality and warmth whatsoever. I had been given so much, much more than many people will ever have the chance to experience in a lifetime. But it's all perspective. Everyone else I knew had just as much.

When I young, I had been something of an outcast. I wanted to have friends, and it showed. I imagine my pathetic desperation and unwillingness to share anything was a major turn off to the other children. As a child, I lacked certain, shall we say, essential social skills. But as we got older, my friendship became highly sought-after, as the others, urged on by their parents, vied for my affection and attention. I was, after all, a Greenlee-Smythe. At first I had been thankful, grateful to have girls to shop with and boys to kiss, but eventually I just accepted my popularity as an immovable fact. I didn't have to be nice to people. They had to be nice to me.

At home, however, it was a different story. I walked on eggshells around my mother, who always had a cutting remark at hand. The clothes that I wore were never met with her approval, same with the boys I brought home. And girlfriends? They were to be neither seen nor heard. In my opinion, the day I receive my mother's approval is the day that I have achieved utter perfection. And I'm still trying, still waiting.

Despite her criticisms, my mother at least showed an interest in my existence. It seemed as though most of the time Daddy didn't even know he had a daughter. Well, now that I know the whole truth, this has begun to make a little more sense to me. But when I think back to the things I did, the way I acted, just to get him to notice me or acknowledge me, I feel sad. Because there was nothing I could do. He had never loved me, would never love me.

At first I was good. I was clean. I never begged to go to the movies or to go to the park. I tried my hardest not to be an inconvenience. My masters were my parents, and I was their pathetic dog, always eager to please. When my parents took vacations I never asked them to stay, never asked to go along. I worked hard at school, and I always bagged straight A's. However, my academic achievements were of no social importance to my mother, and I doubt Daddy had ever given them even the quickest glance, or the most fleeting thought.

Around the time I started at Windsor Academy when I was thirteen I realized that it wasn't working. So I started going out more, sometimes not coming home until three, four in the morning. Our maid, Pilar, would sometimes leave the garden doors open. But if they weren't, I would pass out in one of our patio lounge chairs, to be woken up by the timed sprinklers at seven. My parents never mentioned my absences, my wet clothes.

They never mentioned the drugs, either. During elementary school someone would always have a joint or some E, but now that we had our own money, our own cars, we could pick up whatever we wanted. This was when, in some small sense, I was grateful for the freedom I was allowed. It helped.

When I was fourteen I ended up in the hospital. And not from what most people would have expected. My boyfriend at the time, William Jay, had sworn to me that there was no way I could get pregnant if I was on the rag. Later I realized it was just because he had run out of condoms and didn't want to go out and pick some up. Regardless, my doctor thought it necessary to call my parents after I told him, and as I waited at his office, I was filled with a kind of gleeful dread. He wasn't going to ignore this. He couldn't.

But it was my mother who showed up, lips pressed together grimly. She didn't look at me but instead conversed briefly and quietly with the doctor. One week later I got the abortion. And my father never knew.

Drats. Foiled again.

When I was sixteen I overdosed and when I came home from the hospital, I witnessed an argument between my parents, although they weren't aware I was within earshot. Or maybe they were. I actually don't think they cared too much.

"Roger, she has to go away." My mother was matter of fact.

"Don't you think you're being a bitrash?" Daddy was perusing a men's magazine, his eyes and mind trained firmly on whatever was on the page in front of him. My mother snorted.

"Rash? I think it would be quite prudent. She's out of control. Do you have any idea how this reflects on us? Daddy is beside himself."

"Listen Mary, if Woodruff is so upset, maybe he can pay for her stay at the BFC. But I'm just not budgeting that sort of extravagance." I thought this was my dad's gruff way of telling my mother that he would miss me if I went away. Teenage naivety strikes again. "Mary, you have your job, and I have mine. And I can't do mine when yours is constantly interfering. So Keep Greenlee out of my goddamned hair!"

That had been a familiar chorus over the years.

When I was eighteen and leaving for college, Daddy was nowhere to be found. He had been on his annual Boy's Weekend doing god knows what. And it would be another year and a half until I would see him again.

I only managed to get through one year of school before I went to live with my grandparents. I had realized that I couldn't stay in California anymore. I wanted to take a break, to clean up a little. And Grandaddy and I had always had a special bond.

And that's when I met Ryan.

I guess it had been lust at first site. I knew what I liked. But beyond his looks he always had this overwhelming aura of security. Like nothing could happen as long as he was there. After the upheaval I had experienced that year, he seemed like the answer to all my troubles. I ingratiated myself with him, trying to change into the kind of person he would be interested in. I cleaned up my system, knowing that he wouldn't approve. And I was partially successful, as he was interested, but only in my body, only in sex. He made it clear that I wasn't needed in any other facet of his life. I was banished, excluded. It was nursery school all over again. Well, except for the sex part, of course.

And then Leo had come into my life.

Leo was the most amazing person I have ever met, will ever meet. It was as if God had been listening when I used to pray for the perfect boyfriend, the man who would sweep me off my feet and take me away from everything that was wrong in my life. Because Leo had been everything I had ever wanted and more. Of course, it had taken me awhile to admit that to myself, but, subconsciously, I had known. I had always known.

But David had scared me. In fact, I found Leo's whole family to be slightly on the sinister side. For a long time I had thought David to be some sort of insane, mad scientist, intent on mass, worldwide destruction. Telling him this years later had caused him to laugh so hard that he had been left doubled over, heaving, tears of mirth running down his face. But what was I supposed to think? He _had_ done some evil things. Like trying to kill Adam Chandler. And drugging a yacht full of people. My criminal record thanks him for _that_ one. Not to mention his bothersome habit of blackmailing people. But through Leo, I had begun to see a different side of David. The side that was sometimes nice to people.

Not that I didn't like the other one.

Thinking about David makes my head hurt. My feelings for him are complicated and disorganized. Mostly because I haven't been honest. Not to him, and not to myself.

Okay, I'm trying to be introspective. So I ignore the frenetic whirling of my thoughts and close my eyes, trying desperately to pin them down. I can do this. I'm going to do this.

David is sexy.

There! That was one thought. One that I hadn't allowed myself to admit until now. The guilt starts to rush in but I remind myself that I find plenty other men to be sexy. Like Pablo. Like Ryan.

David was passionate. Okay, I seemed to be a little hung up on the whole new sex aspect of our relationship. The aspect that was not going to be pursued in any shape, way, or form ever again. So try again, Greenlee.

I'd like to say that David makes me feel safe and secure, much in the same way that Ryan does. But I can't. Because sometimes when I'm with David, he frightens me. And sometimes, I frighten myself.

I remember him saying, as he ran his fingers over my breasts, over my torso, feeling me tremble beneath him.

_Are you afraid of me Greenlee?_

I stilled his hand then, brought his fingers to my mouth, kissed them. And the only answer had been inside my mind.

_No David...I'm just scared of these feelings..._

Ryan stirred, rubbing his face into his pillow.

I don't want to be here when he wakes up. But I need to be. He's my husband. I'm his wife. We have to be here for each other.

I slept with Ryan to forget. To forget about the fact that I slept with David. To forget about the packet of blow inside my jewelry box. To forget about how I had made things worse than ever before. As if sex with Ryan would erase the fact that I was an adulteress, a coke-fiend, and, possibly the worst of them all, unemployed.

Frustratingly, it hadn't worked. And now I had to deal with the consequences.

Or I could just continue on as if everything was situation normal.

The funny thing was, it wasn't really even that far off.


	20. Burning the Dead

At night I dream of fire.

Acrid smoke burns my throat, causing to me to choke. I can't breathe. And I'm hot. So fucking hot. I usually wake up, coughing and sputtering, lunging out of bed and splashing freezing water over my flushed and heated face. And then I lay awake, feeling the flames lick at my feet every time I close my eyes.

I don't go out during the day anymore. The sun hurts too much. I have to wait for night to fall, before I slip out to do whatever needs to be done. I'm not too worried about anyone recognizing me, even though I look pretty much the same, despite the dye job and facial hair. It's just not logical. I mean come on, I died. Case closed. I'm safer now than I ever was when I was alive.

Alexis calls sometimes, checking up on me, unleashing her maternal instincts upon me. Sometimes she puts little Kristina on the phone, and I just sit there, unmoving, as she gurgles and coos. It makes me think of my baby. The one that's going to be raised by Elizabeth and her twisted husband. It doesn't seem real to me. I'm not a father. I can't be.

She sends me money every month. Lots of it. But she can afford to; she's a Cassedine, after all. I think she's trying to make up for the mess that my life had become. Not that it's her fault. It's really no one's fault but my own.

I'm leaving soon. This city is too big, too full. People's lives are compressed, squashed together side by side on run-down streets that smell of fried chicken and garbage. I long for big houses, tree-lined streets and easy familiarity.

I'm a fool.

But I always had been. That was one thing that hadn't changed. Which was why I was planning a relocation, one that had been very carefully thought out.

Pine Valley.

It sounded perfect. Small, secluded, but harboring multi-million dollar enterprises and the people who ran them. So not just some backwater shit hole. But most of all it was a family town, a community town. I could get a nice big house with low property rates, and maybe-

-No.

No women. I didn't need or want them. Sure, I had liked sex. But for me, sex had always been a package deal with love, or the next closest thing. And I didn't feel those kinds of feelings anymore. Not since Emily had grasped them greedily, tramped and shit upon them, and then thrown them back in my face.

But that's the way it had always gone for Zander Smith. I was a pushover, and the girls all knew it. In high school, the guys all thought I was pussy whipped. Not so. I had always just felt so strongly, so powerfully towards my girlfriends that I would have done anything to make them happy. And I was never unfaithful, never even wanted to be. I just wished my significant others had felt the same way.

I'm leaving tonight, packing up my little Alfa Romeo and getting the hell out of dodge. And in sixteen hours, I'll be at my new starting point.

Everything else is just ancient history.  
  
Author's Note- There's some Zander drabble. I know you might not be into GH, but I've been dying to write a Zander chapter for a while. And yes, I'm pretending as though he never came back after faking his death in the fire. Just drive the knife into my Zander-loving heart a little more, Guza! And thanks for the reviews I've gotten so far, I'm glad you guys like it! Suggestions from all are welcome, as I'm kind of floating around idea-free these days. I'm just pissed off about the whole David/Babe/Miranda/Bianca thing going on right now. Totally out of character for my precious David. Free Miranda, you bastard lol!  
Next chapter is for either Ryan or David. Maybe even both of them. What can I say? I'm lazy!


	21. Blood and Boarding School

I'm constantly surrounded by death. After all, doctors usually are. And there comes a point where it ceases to affect you. For me, that point had occurred much earlier than for many others.

I was thirteen when my father died. The age when I outwardly raged against him yet inwardly longed for his advice and guidance. He was my only parent, my only family, the central figure in my life. My childlike mind couldn't fathom the idea of suicide. At night in the boarding school where I was packed off to live I would go over again and again the things that I had done wrong. The stresses I had caused my father. I had always known that my father loved me though, so this was merely a form of punishment.

Because I hadn't been enough for him.

Naturally, however, I blamed Vanessa. My mother was cold and manipulative. She made men love her and then shut them out. She left when I was a baby and then reappeared periodically, reducing my father to a blithering fool. Sometimes she'd have towed along my brother Leo, whom I detested no matter what he did to try to impress me.

What was it that made her love him so much more than me?

This hateful thought coiled itself into my heart, which caused me to bully Leo something awful. Towards the end, I made myself scarce whenever Vanessa was around, as it pained me to see what she did to my father.

He was mad about her. When she visited, his cool and sane demeanor dissipated, and transformed into something I was at a loss to recognize. He was eager to please, buying extravagant gifts, tempting her to stay. His desperateness made me ill. As did his permissiveness.

Vanessa would speak of her many affaires as we ate dinner, as we were chauffeured to the theatre. She was completely without tact. Her words hurt my father terribly. I sometimes caught him crying, which humiliated me. I knew that she would never stay for good, a realization that always seemed to escape him. I couldn't understand how such a repulsive human being could cause him so much longing. Of course, I was blind to the complexities and intimacies of adult relationships. But not for much longer.

As it were, he died shortly after her last visit. Before she left, I had heard arguing, which was not that unusual. Sometimes it was about money, sometimes about me or Leo, but mostly it was about them, and their utterly fucked-up relationship.

_"How can you ask me to live here with you? In this sickening gauche city? It disgusts me."_ As if she were one to talk. To me, Vanessa was as vulgar as they came.

_"But darling, my work is here. Nowhere else could I make such money. David goes to school here, he is happy here. You could be as well."_ My strong heroic father, reduced to begging. My hate for Vanessa knew no limits.

_ "If you loved me you wouldn't ask this of me. I couldn't imagine taking Leo out of Europe. He is special-his father is royalty!"_ At this I remember rolling my eyes. Leo had been, what, five? He would have managed to bounce back. Not that I wanted him to. I wanted Vanessa and her loathsome offspring in Europe where they belonged, as far from my father and I as they could get.

_"_David _is special! He is so clever; his teachers tell me that he could be anything when he grows up. But he needs his mother! He longs for you, Vanessa!"_ It annoyed me that my father felt he had to lie. I didn't long for her at all. In fact, I wish that she would just die. Besides, if he was trying to convince her to stay, appealing to her non-existant maternal instinct was not the way to go. To her, I was of the same standing as the neighbours dog. Barking all the time to make you aware of it's presence, but beyond that having no other bearing on your life except for the occasional annoyance.

But I still strained my ears to hear her reply. And I hated myself for it.

Then Leo had trailed into my room, to my abject frustration as well as relief, clutching a blanket in his arms and his thumb in his mouth. Our respective parents voices must have woken him. He plaintively asked if he could sleep with me and I disgustedly refused, instead pointing him to the bed on the other side of my massive bedroom. But I could only put up with his sobbing and hiccupping for so long until I relented and allowed him a quarter of my bed. I turned my back to him yet he was undeterred, clutching my shoulders despite my repeated attempts to shake him loose. He fell asleep almost immediately. And his heavy breathing drowned out the voices across the hall, and soon lulled me to sleep as well. Of course, Leo had to ruin everything by wetting the bed, which I discovered in horror the next morning. I had smacked him across the back of the head and had refused, despite my father's several entreaties, to see them off as they left for the airport. Leo's sobs had reverberated throughout the house.

Two weeks later my father had died. The police ruled suicide, and his enormous life insurance policy was worthless. Not that it mattered. My father was a very well off man. Most of the money was left to me but some, I soon learned, had been earmarked for Vanessa and Leo as well. I had seethed with anger.

After the funeral, which was attended by hundreds, mostly people I had never met before, I was sent to boarding school. The rules that were forced upon me seemed pointless and inane, and at first I struggled against them. However, I soon found ways around the them. I did exceedingly well in all of my classes so I was meted no special attention. I preferred to spend time alone, but I was forced to make friends out of necessity, as it gave me an excuse to leave the school grounds on the weekends. And the other boys were drawn to me, I suppose, because of my broad knowledge of alcoholic drinks, which we capitalized on every chance we got. One of my roommates, James Goldsnift III, had carved a panel in one of the walls, which was where we hid most of our contraband. Therefore, school was bearable, which was just as well since I remained there until I was eighteen.

Now, as I sit here in the operating room, the ticking clock providing the only noise, I wonder how I can be thinking about my schooling, when someone has just died, in this room, by my hands, their life splattered on my clothes and splashed on the floor beneath me. Shouldn't I be thinking about them? The young teenage girl who had behaved so stupidly, so recklessly, goaded on by her friends, fueled by alcohol. And the young man who had been in the passenger seat beside her, presumably her boyfriend. Had he been trying to get her to stop, to pull the car over? Or had he been as oblivious as her, the music blaring, not seeing the transport truck until it was right in front of them? I should be thinking about them. But I can't. I've seen this too many times before.

And for some reason, it reminds me off my relationship with Greenlee. The utter destructiveness of it all, I guess.

I haven't spoken to her for weeks. I haven't seen her either, but that can only be expected, as I rarely set foot outside the hotel unless it's to go to work. I've sold the cabin. I have no idea who bought it, and all the furniture is in storage. The bed that Anna and I shared. The crib that Leora slept in for such a short time. I don't know what to do with those things so they sit, immobile. Like me.

I don't really talk to anyone. I have no desire to. The only people I have regular contact with are the maitre d's at the restaurant and Maxie Jones.

Now she's a weird one. The night after I met her I twigged to who she was. Her father, the police chief, had been in that huge hotel fire in Port Charles. I had been flown in to deal with some of the survivors and if I think hard enough, I can almost convince myself that I remember seeing her at the hospital there, white-faced and white-knuckled, clutching his gurney as he was wheeled by me. I gather she throws that bullshit about him being in Alaska at me because she's run away. I feel like telling her there's no need to put so much effort into lying to me, as I don't really give a shit. She seems responsible enough and besides, it's certainly none of my business.

But she's an interesting person, and I like her. I imagine the only reason she hangs around me is because I'm the only person she knows, in a distant and detached way. In the morning we sit in the lounge downstairs, reading the paper together. I read about politics and global events and she rummages around until she locates the fashion and entertainment sections. Once in a while she comes to my room, telling me her television is on the fritz but probably just feeling lonely. So we order room service and I let her watch American Idol or The O.C or any other shit that's on. Although I kind of like The O.C.

It's strange talking to someone so young. When we eat dinner together, I'm reminded of all the things she can't yet have experienced, the places she must not yet have seen. Maxie's life has been the opposite of Greenlee's, and yet, her voice is touched with the same sort of bitterness. And it makes me long for Greenlee all the more. Not that Maxie doesn't make for good companionship. She's a nice girl. But she just reminds me of everything I don't and can't have.

Maxie's lonely though. So I try my best to be friendly, not that it's very difficult. Maxie is mature for someone her age, which she says is twenty, but which I'm sure must be nearer to seventeen or eighteen. It makes me wonder.

What has made her so old?

"Doctor Hayward!" A nurse is standing breathlessly in the doorway. She's very pretty. In fact, I think that we once may have-

"Doctor Hayward, the front desk has been paging you for twenty minutes." Shit. What now?

"So?" I mutter, getting wearily to my feet. The nurse looks around her, understanding colouring her features.

"This must have been a rough one. I'm sorry, David." She says softly. I glare at her, first in confusion, and then irrationally annoyed that she's misinterpreted my rudeness. Also daring her to call me by my first name again. Just because we may or may not have slept together (I can't quite remember if the actual act was performed, as I was pretty drunk that night) does not give her the right to act so informally around me at work. Then I realize that I'm being ridiculous and give her my best attempt at a smile.

"Yeah, well, you can't win them all." She pats my arm.

"That's life, I guess." She cringes, as if realizing the seemingly inappropriate irony of her words. "But you better mosey on down to the front desk. The woman waiting for you has been very impatient." My breath catches.

So she's finally come to see me.

I realize as I reach for the door my hand is shaking. I wrench my surgical gloves off, tossing them into the garbage, and rub my hands together, trying to still them.

I forget about the blood, because all I can think about is her.

Author's Note--I'm completely clueless about David's background, so if this goes against what the show has told us I apologize!


	22. Lioness

Hospitals give me the creeps.

My complaints are pretty clichéd, I guess. Smells funny, food's bad, blah blah blah. But they're valid all right. One look at the so-called tuna casserole they were serving in the cafeteria was enough to chase my appetite away for the rest of the night.

So now I'm standing here, not daring to sit in any of those dirty looking chairs in the reception area, trying to breathe through my mouth, and avoiding eye contact with the receptionist, who seems to be glaring at me for some reason. I suppose she must have her reasons. Just like half the town does.

What the hell is taking David so long? For all he knows this could be a serious emergency. I thought doctors were supposed to be little agile athletes, sprinting down the halls and leaping over stretchers. I mean, if ER has taught me anything, it was definitely that.

There he is, finally. Oh, how disgusting! He's absolutely covered in blood! I tell myself to get a grip. This is a hospital, Kendall. People die here. Respect that.

"David, oh my darling David. How are you?" I smile and try not to look too grossed out by all the blood. David doesn't say anything. He's just looking at me, confusion on his face. I think I see a flicker of disappointment before the anger that I've grown accustomed to overcomes him.

"Now just what the fuck do you want? I'm not in the fucking mood." He snarls. Well, that was certainly rude. I can't think of what I've done to merit two _fucks_ in one greeting. The receptionist is smirking and not trying to hide it either.

"Can you give us some privacy?" I snap. She looks at me blankly.

"This is my work station, _Miss_ Hart."

"Listen, you little fuckwit-"

I hear David sigh.

"Oh, just shut up Kendall and let's go to my office." _How do you like that_, I want to shout at that damned receptionist, who probably just wants to fuck David. But she's already gone back to her paperwork and I feel embarrassingly petty. I hate when that happens.

I follow David into his office, which is littered with papers and has nowhere to sit. Wonderful. David starts pullingoff his heinously bloody scrubs and for a horrible panic-stricken moment I fear that he's wearing nothing underneath. But such is not the case, so I resume breathing normally.

Wow. David's office is really big. I would have thought, since he's been fired and re-hired so many times, that they would have just shoved him in some dirty old closet somewhere. But I guess he would never allow that. He probably makes sure he has the biggest office in the whole hospital. He's such a guy.

"Well?" He's standing there in a t-shirt and those bloody pants, arms crossed.

"Well nothing, David. I've just dropped by to see how you are." I smile sweetly. Or, you know, how I imagine a sweet smile would look like. Probably something like Bianca's.

"I'm fine. So, goodbye." He continues to change and—whoops, just boxers underneath. I hastily cast my eyes elsewhere.

I can't help but notice the lack of pictures. Understandably he wouldn't have any of Vanessa or Anna, but wouldn't he at least want one of Leora? Of Leo? But maybe that would be too hurtful for him. I mean, I try not to feel sorry for people but David...he's had some incredible losses in such a short time. And the worst part is, he's definitely the kind of person who would despise pity of any sort.

I spot a chair against the wall and begin moving stacks of paper, binders, books, and all the other crap off of it. David tells me not to mess anything up.

"Sure." I mumble, wondering how this room could possibly get any messier. I unearth a CD with a post-it note stuck to the front, which I surreptitiously take in.

_David_, it reads. _Here are all those songs that you like off The OC, so you can listen to them wile you're at work. Maxie_. I stifle a giggle. David, a fan of The O.C? Colour me slightly surprised. I would have thought shows about teenage drama to be beneath him. And who's this Maxie? That's such a porn star name. And she had misspelled _while_. It must be one of the bimbo nurses that work here.

David has finally pulled on his sweat pants and he walks over, snatching the CD out of my hand.

"Do you mind not going through my things?" God, he seems even more paranoid then usual. It's not like I'm going to steal anything. _The Definitive Manual on Ventricle Arteries_ didn't really interest me and that CD was one I already had in my collection.

I collapse in the armchair.

"So, what's new?"

"You aren't actually serious, are you?" David mutters, scowling.

"Of course I am." I'm finding that I quite like annoying him. He takes it so badly.

"Nothing is new." He says tersely.

"And yourself, Kendall..." I prompt. David says nothing. "Nothing really new in my life either, since you're so interested." He gives me a look that clearly states that he is _not_ interested, and pulls on a sweater. I guess I had better stop beating around the bush. "Okay, well, I just came to see if you're still inexplicably attracted to that raging harpy."

He's quiet for a moment. I wait for the explosion.

"Well, I don't know Kendall. Are you still inexplicably attracted to that arrogant heartless blowhard?" For a minute I feel like punching him in the face, until I remember that I started this.

"I am. So I'll take that as an affirmative on your part as well then." He opens his mouth to speak but I rush to cut him off. "Look David, you and I both know that they don't love each other but I'm getting tired of waiting. I miss Ryan and I wish I didn't because he's being an asshole but-" I have to stop because I've started to cry. Beautiful.

"So, what then? What the fuck do you expect me to do about it, Kendall?" He isn't shouting, but his words are laced with venom. I blow my nose, trying to regain my composure.

"It's not what you can do, David. It's what we can do. Together."

"What do you mean?"

"How much does it kill you to see them together?" I ask him.

"I haven't seen either of them for a couple weeks so..."

"Well, consider yourself lucky. It's as though they're joined at the hip these days." I had seen them several times, mostly at the grocery store and sometimes in the park. They never seemed to speak to each other much, which would have given me hope if not for the fact that their hands were always tightly clasped, with Ryan's arm wrapped comfortingly around her shoulder. He could really make a girl feel safe. "And it kills _me_."

He shrugs and sits down at his desk.

"Well, they _are_ married."

He's trying to act as though this isn't bothering him. I'm not going to let him.

I don't really understand what kind of thing David and Greenlee ever had between them. Maybe it was nothing. But David doesn't seem the type to carry a torch without being given some encouragement. Frankly, if it's true I'm shocked and a even little disgusted with them. I mean, sometimes it's helpful to take comfort in another person during a mourning period, but David was his brother and Greenlee was his wife. That's just nasty and wrong.

"Married? Ryan sure has a funny way of showing it." I was of course referring to the night he came home from his honeymoon and then proceeded to crawl back into bed with me. At the time it had seemed like a victimless crime, as I had whipped myself into an almost unbearable state of longing for Ryan since he had been away, and because, to me, Greenlee would never be a victim, no matter how often she portrayed herself as one. But I had been short-sighted. Beacuse there had been a victim. Me.

David narrows his eyes.

"You disgusting slut. Does it make you feel good, sleeping with someone else's husband?"

Now that's just hypocrisy at it's finest.

"I don't know David. It probably feels the same way it felt for you when you were sleeping with Dixie Martin. Pretty damn good." Game, set, and match for me. David has no response so he starts fumbling with the papers on his desk. "But come on, I didn't come here to fight. I came here to make you a proposition."

He stops what he's doing and looks toward me expectantly. Not that kind of proposition, idiot. Well, not really. "I propose we do the same thing to them."

David laughs.

"What, get married?"

"Well, we don't have to go that far. But imagine how much it would hurt them, us being together."

David sighs.

"I don't want to hurt them. Well, not Greenlee anyway."

"I know that. But when they see us together, they might realize that they've pushed it too far, that they could actually lose us." David seems unconvinced. "Just think, David. They catch a glimpse of us here and there, laughing, having a good time. Plant the seeds in their mind. And then step things up a little. Kissing-" David starts to object and I'm forced to shush him. "Look, there's no need to go any farther than that, if it bothers you so much. God, as if you're such a prude. It's not as if this is going to be _my_ finest hour, either."

I'm surprised to see David smile.

"No, it certainly wouldn't be." He chuckles. "But you're forgetting one thing. No one would ever believe us. It would be pathetically transparent what we were doing."

This is turning out to be much easier than I had originally thought or prepared for. The poor guy's desperate for her. Or maybe he's just desperate for some action. Has there been anyone else since Anna? I can't think of anyone but I know there must be _someone_. David's too much of a slut to keep it to himself.

"I don't think so, David. I'm an amazing actress. And all you have to do is stand there and say _ahhhhhhhhh_." David laughs again, which I think must be a record.

"You know, I think this must be the most ridiculous cliché of a plan that I've ever heard, but fuck it, I just can't resist a good old-fashioned proposition. I'm going to give you a week to make this work, and you had better Kendall, because I don't think you're going to find another guy in this town who Ryan hates more than me."

I grin happily, for I have ventured into the lion's den.

And I have triumphed.


	23. Stranger at the Door

Author's Note--I really enjoyed writing for Kendall in that last chapter so I think she'll start playing a bigger role in this story, which at the moment doesn't seem like it's going to end. So I just want to thank everyone who's managed to slog through all this. I know it probably hasn't been easy.--

When did television get so tiresome? I've been channel surfing for over twenty minutes and I still can't find anything suitable to watch.

But really, I think there's something more appropriate I can be doing with my spare time today, seeing as how I'm actually alone for once. Not that I'm saying that Ryan has been smothering me, but...well, yeah, he kind of has been.

I don't understand him. Ever since that night when we first slept together, he's been acting differently. He hardly goes out alone anymore and if he does he tells me where and leaves a number, no matter how many times I try to convince him that it's not really necessary. And when I go out, he almost always joins me.

It's not as though I dislike the company. My relationship with Ryan has recently morphed into one of comfortable and mutual silence. Being with him is almost like being with myself, albeit with a little more warmth and presence. I guess I can admit to being a little bit of a narcissist. And I don't deny that having his arms wrapped around me, warding off the chilly weather makes me feel nice.

But really. Sometimes a girl needs some time to herself.

Especially if she's going to go see her former brother-in-law with whom she's now having an affair with.

_Wrong, Greenlee_, I remind myself. _It's not an affair when you've only slept together once._

And that was a month ago. And I haven't seen him since.

So yeah, this affair pretty much sucked the big one.

I can admit to missing him. How could I not? Since Leo, David has been one of the few constants in my life. Despite the way I've chosen to live my life, there's something to be said for familiarity. It's familiar. Ha ha.

I toss the remote onto the coffee table and wince when it slides onto the floor, two batteries escaping from their moorings and rolling underneath the couch. I take this as a sign to get off my ass and go outside.

I decide to go see David. I mean, things were different now. It had been a month. We could be friends again.

This thought cheers me so I pull on a pair of shorts and dust off my runners, deciding that since the weather had warmed up I may as well take advantage of it and jog down to David's cabin. For some reason, I was in a strangely euphoric mood.

By the time I get to his cabin my shirt is drenched in sweat. Knocking on the door, I frantically try cooling down my beet red face and I struggle to breathe normally. Too much booze and drugs and not enough roughage, apparently. See? I'm an adult. I can joke about this. And I can also decide to start hitting the gym on a more regular basis.

Maybe David will help me.

But the person who answers the door isn't David. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen this guy in my life. I wonder what kind of business he has with David but I'm not really that interested. Medicine is a bore.

"Hi there. Is David around?" But as soon as the words leave my mouth I know something is wrong. The guy furrows his brow and runs his hand through his already tousled brown hair.

"Uhhh, actually, I think the guy you're looking for doesn't live here anymore."

"Oh. Wait...what do you mean?" I'm looking over his shoulder and processing the fact that the room is practically empty and that this should be telling me something. But my brain has denied me its cooperation so I'm not sure what that is, exactly.

"Well, I moved in here a week ago. David...Hayward, I guess? I bought this place from him." I continue to stare at him blankly. He clears his throat. "He-he doesn't live here anymore."

I've started to understand what's happened here and the guy standing in front of me seems relieved at the comprehension that has begun creeping into my eyes. "So, okay? Are you alright ma'am?"

His words jar me and I wrench myself away from the doorstep, stumbling slightly.

"Yes. I'm fine. Thanks for your help, Mr.-"

"Oh, it's just Cameron." He narrows his eyes slightly. "Are you sure you're okay?"

But I don't answer. I turn around, running quickly towards the direction that I've come from.

I think I'll go say hello to David.


	24. Said and Done

Author's Note--Okay, so basically I wrote this absolute kick-ass chapter. It was realllly good, if I do say so myself. But then my hateful laptop overheats and I lose everything! Leaving my lazy ass with no choice but to re-write the whole thing. But unfortunately half-way through I get so bored that I cut out large chunks just so I can finish the damn thing. I guess what I'm trying to say is this chapter kind of sucks, but in interest of moving the story forward I had to write it. And also: Cliches abound.--

The Pine Valley Inn was basically a flophouse for the town's upper class. Wife was going through a nervous breakdown and you need to get away? Your fianc's former love has returned from the dead and moved into your home? The Pine Valley Inn was your refuge.

And I don't deny that I've taken advantage of its amenities once and awhile. I mean, I myself was once a shiftless youth with money to burn. But now, walking through the plush carpeted corridors I'm fully confronted with how stark and impersonal it is. Who would ever choose to live here?

Maids are cleaning the rooms, their crisp prim uniforms projecting an inescapable aura of routine and professionalism. One woman stares at me as I pass by, her face seemingly void of any thought or emotion. David's door at the end of the hall seems endless miles away, even as I quicken my pace.

He opens his door roughly, savagely, his face twisted into a barely constrained grimace. Long ago, that would have frightened me.

"David," I smile, stepping forward towards his immobile figure. "How are you?" I wait for him to smile back, or to shout at me, or even, as I've sometimes dreamed of, to reach for me with an air of tentativeness and scarcely disguised longing. But he does none of these things.

He holds himself in the doorway, his face settling into impassiveness.

"The usual. And yourself?" The innocuous words hover in the air between us, frosty and cold.

"I'm fine. But really thirsty. Do you mind if...?" I stare past him into the room, and he slowly steps away from the door.

The TV is on. The sound is muted, and the images, beautiful people with made-up problems, open their mouths to speak but we hear nothing. A glass of whisky is resting on the table, three quarters empty. A women's sweater is draped over a chair, its sleeve trailing gently over the floor.

I wander over to the fridge, pulling one of David's expensive imported beers out. He raises an eyebrow.

"Well, help yourself, please." He sits down at the table, looking at me questioningly.

"So, wow. You sold the cabin."

"Yep."

Silence ensues.

"Is there a reason you're being like this?"

"What?"

"So miserably monosyllabic?"

His mouth curls slightly.

"No."

I don't smile.

"That's not funny."

"It wasn't meant to be. The fact that you said monosyllabic-correctly, no less-was hilarity enough. What's next? Complicated arithmetic?" He takes a drag on the cigarette that has been sitting idly in the tray, smoke curling upwards languorously, creating a dirty nicotine-filled cloud.

"You know, there's really no reason to be such an ass, David. I mean, I just jogged all the way here, and it's freaking hot outside. The least you could do is _try_ to act like a normal person."

"Okay, fine. What do you want?" He drums his knuckles against the glass tabletop impatiently.

I smile in what I hope is a friendly and engaging smile.

"I just wanted to talk. It's been awhile since I've seen you."

David clears throat and leans forward.

"Yeah, actually there's a reason for that." I wait expectantly, trepidation coursing through my veins. "I don't think it's a good idea, us seeing each other."

"Wh-what?" I barely manage to croak out the word, my mouth having suddenly gone dry.

"Look, I think we both know that we fu...damaged our relationship pretty much beyond repair. It just requires too much energy."

"Energy?" I murmur, picking unthinkingly at the label of the bottle that I still hold in my hand.

"Greenlee, listen to me. You're too much fucking work." David says this as though he's explaining something stupefying simple, and I'm too dense to grasp the concept. I hated when he was like this, when he made me feel worthless and, worse yet, tried to.

"Well God, I'm sorry I'm such a burden on you." I wait for him to object but he doesn't, of course. When had David ever done what was expected of him?

"Having known you as long as I have, I know you need someone to cling to. But it's not as though I'm leaving you without recourse. You have your husband, for Christ sakes."

His words cut at me and I press my shaking hands against the table, feeling the glacier smoothness of the glass. I look at his flat unperturbed face and my confusion and anger snaps outward, leaving me reeling.

"And you? Just who the fuck do you have, huh?"

David sighs, stands up, and begins to fix himself another drink.

"You're just proving my point. It's funny that you can't see that."

I hadn't come here to fight. I hadn't really known what I was coming here for but now it's apparent to me. I don't want to pretend anymore, I don't want to feign obliviousness, and I don't want to be cold. I just want to be warm. I just want to be happy. I look down at my hands, and the bottle is empty. Had I finished it all? Dizziness overcomes me and I rise unsteadily to my feet. I look at him, willing him to look at me. Willing him to see me, for God's sake David, just _see_ me, please.

"Sometimes I wonder why I'm still here. Like, when I know that I could go back to California, you know? And then I could import a tree from Vermont for Christmas like we used to do when I was younger, and after New Year's I could work on my tan and work off my hangover on the patio. The house is still there, you know. But it's empty. It just sits there. The maids don't even live there."

David's back is towards me as he mixes his drink, sloshing rye and coke over the sides and onto the counter.

"Lucky them." He mutters. I ignore him.

"I think I'm going to go back. Pennsylvania's just not right for me. It's so _cold_. I could go back, don't you think? It wouldn't have to be like before, right?"

"What do you want me to say exactly? '_Yeah, go back to California! What a wonderful and_ _not-at-all self-destructive decision!_' You've got to be kidding me." He says this bitterly.

Actually, returning to California hadn't occurred to me until a few minutes ago, but the idea seemed to grow larger and brighter by the second. I walk over to where David is and gingerly lay my fingers on his shoulder.

"It doesn't have to be. I want you...I want you to come with me. California can be kind of cool, if you know where to go." I smile weakly, but David continues to stare straight ahead and the muscles beneath my hand tense even further.

"Greenlee, I'm pretty sure they have caretakers in California too."

"That's not what I meant." He doesn't say anything and I feel like shaking him. "Goddamit David, you know that's not what I mean!"

"Do I?" He says this quietly, almost imperceptibly, and it should give me pause. But I'm too caught up in finally saying what I've been wanting to say that I don't listen.

"I need you, okay? I'm sorry about everything but I really need you now, please." He finally turns to look at me and I wait, apprehensive and trembling.

"But Greenlee, who the fuck needs you?"

His words are visceral, and I stumble back until I feel the table pressing insistently against the side of my leg. I hate the smile on his face. I want to scratch at his face so he'll never smile at me like that again.

"You do. I know you do." I say this, trying not to betray the desperateness in my voice. But I know he can hear it.

David laughs and gently places his drink on the counter, so carefully, as though it was the most fragile and delicate object in the world.

"We're not having this discussion." I hear the resignation and finality in his voice.

"Why? Why aren't we having this conversation? Because you're too fucking scared to own up to what you did?"

His arm shoots out, startling me so that I jump back, and the glass shatters against the wall, spraying coke and iridescent shards everywhere.

"I'm not afraid. Not even of _that_. So get out, go back to California and get coked up to your eyeballs, do whatever you want. But I'm not coming with you."

This isn't really David. I keep telling myself that as he continues to stare at me with cold eyes. This wasn't him.

"Fine David, forget that I love you, forget anything that you feel for me, and continue to be miserable like you've always been. You truly deserve it." I shout this, not knowing if I truly mean what I'm saying, not caring about the tears running down my cheeks, just looking at him, looking for a sign that he's hearing me. But his face remains set, emotionless.

"Am I interrupting something? Well, I suppose I am, seeing as I could hear you two from half-way down the hall."

She walks into the room, exquisitely pale and willowy, subtly made-up, and impeccably dressed.

"What are you doing here Kendall?" I manage to choke out, wondering how much she's overheard, knowing that it was probably everything.

She ignores me and looks at David, leaning against the dripping counter.

"Just came by to pick up my sweater. I foresee another drastic drop in temperature. Okay, the meteorologist did, but I happened to catch it on the news."

David motions to his left.

"There it is."

She clutches it to her chest, and then wrinkles her nose.

"David, you really shouldn't smoke in the house. This stinks." She walks over to me, holding my gaze until I'm forced to look away. I hate how she towers over me. "So Greenlee, how are you? Long time, no talk. I'm surprised Ryan's allowed you to wander away unsupervised." I see David from the corner of my eye begin to clean up the broken pieces of glass. "How funny that the first place you would come is here."

"Well, I could say the same for you. What the hell are you doing here?"

Kendall grins wickedly, baring her perfect teeth.

"In interest of being diplomatic, I'll just say that I'm definitely not here for the conversation."

I feel like I've been punched in the gut. I stare at David, my mouth open but unmoving.

"Look..." He starts, his palm bleeding from where he'd cut himself. Kendall melts into an armchair, perching her feet up on the coffee table. David comes towards me but I back away quickly, tripping over a pair of his shoes.

He wouldn't. Not with her. Not after everything she's put me through.

I hear my cell ring, distantly but intent on making it's presence known, and I pull it out of my purse with shaking fingers.

"Greenlee-" David's voice, rough and unthinking.

"Greenlee-" Ryan's voice, staticky and questioning. "Greenlee, where are you babe? I just got home and I was worried. You left the frying pan on again." I look at David, no longer granite, no longer cold. He looks shaken. He looks...remorseful. And then I look at Kendall, grinning as though she's elated but also somewhat frightened. As though she's sickly fascinated in what's transpired. And I know.

And I'm just so sad, for David, for Ryan, even for Kendall. We've all fought so long, too long for something that we were so sure we wanted, so sure would make us happy.

But all it's done is make us bleed.

I hold the phone closer to my ear, blocking out everything but him.

"I'm sorry. I'll be home soon."


End file.
